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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


PASADENA  HOME 
FOR  THE  AGED 


THE  MATRIX 


THE  MATRIX 


BY 

MARIA  THOMPSON  DAVIESS 

Author  of  "BLUE-GRASS  AND  BROADWAY,"  "THE 

GOLDEN  BIRD,"  "THE  MELTING 

OF  MOLLY,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1920 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


P^^blishcd,  February,  1920 


PS 


FOREWORD 

In  this  period  of  the  History  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  when  men  and  women 
have  again  been  called  upon  to  sacrifice  and 
die  to  preserve  and  extend  the  liberty  upon 
which  their  great  Democracy  is  founded,  it 
behooves  us  to  examine  and  pass  judgment 
upon  all  of  its  foundation  stones.  The  au 
thor  claims  that  the  Romance  of  Thomas 
Lincoln  and  Nancy  Hanks,  the  father  and 
mother  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  is  one  of  those 
foundation  stones.  It  has  been  chipped  at 
and  marred  and  banked  over  by  the  dust  of 
time  since  those  pioneer  days  in  which  it  was 
enacted,  of  which  so  little  of  fact,  but  so 
much  of  tradition  remains.  The  author  has 
dug  deep  into  all  legends  and  collected  as 
much  as  possible  of  documentary  evidence, 
and  now  presents  the  reconstructed  romance 


FOREWORD 

as  a  work  of  fiction  for  which  she  hopes  she 
has  been  granted  a  measure  of  inspiration. 
Her  hope  of  such  inspiration  is  based  on  the 
fact  that  she  was  born  and  reared  in  the 
same  little  Bluegrass  valley  which  was  the 
cradle  of  the  great  romance,  and  many  of 
the  traditions  which  she  has  used  in  her  build 
ing  are  her  inheritance.  The  principal 
source  of  her  courage  to  make  such  an  at 
tempt,  and  material  for  the  work,  came  from 
the  research  into  the  lives  of  these  humble 
parents  of  the  great  Lincoln,  conducted  over 
a  period  of  many  years  by  her  aunt,  Hannah 
Daviess  Pittman,  genealogist  of  distinction, 
whose  conclusions  agree  with  those  of  Car 
oline  Hanks  Hitchcock,  set  forth  in  a  small 
volume  on  the  subject.  If  this  story  of  the 
love  of  brave  Nancy  Hanks,  who  had  her 
self  been  held  captive  by  the  Indians,  for  the 
simple  rough  abolitionist,  Thomas  Lincoln, 
in  whom  she  must  have  both  planted  and 
fanned  the  flame  of  the  desire  for  human 
liberty  and  equality,  makes  the  reader  feel 


FOREWORD 

that  the  primitive  greatness  of  heart  and  soul 
of  these  two  pioneers  was  destined  to  as 
sure  the  production  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 
and  gains  for  them  due  credit  for  that  great 
ness,  the  author  will  rest  content. 

Abraham  Lincoln,  sixteenth  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  author  of  the  Eman 
cipation  Proclamation,  said  of  his  mother, 
Nancy  Hanks  Lincoln:  "All  that  I  am  or 
ever  hope  to  be,  I  owe  to  my  angel  Mother, 
blessings  on  her  memory." 


THE  MATRIX 


PASADENA  HOMb 
FOR  THE  AGED 


THE  MATRIX 

CHAPTER  I 

A  GREAT  love  is  nourished  by  the  ebh 
and  flow  of  the  race  blood  in  the  gen 
erations  before  it,  and  when  it  becomes  an 
iridescent  matrix  it  is  very  apt  to  produce 
the  pearl  of  price.  The  great  twilight  stars 
watched  when  her  father  lifted  wee  Xancy 
Hanks  down  from  a  pack-saddle,  in  which 
he  had  brought  her  along  the  Wilderness 
Trail  from  Virginia  to  Kentucky,  into  the 
strong,  awkward,  eager  arms  of  young 
Thomas  Lincoln. 

"Careful,  Tom;  the  little  maid  is  asleep," 
cautioned  the  father.  "Since  we  got  her 
away  from  the  redskin  devils  back  on  the 

3 


THE  MATRIX 

trail  a  month  ago,  she  starts  in  her  rest  to 
fair  break  your  heart." 

Even  at  her  father's  low-voiced  caution 
the  long  black  lashes  lifted  from  the  big 
purple  eyes,  which  were  as  dark  as  the  twi 
light  shadows  coming  down  through  the 
branches  of  the  tall  oaks  that  hovered  the 
Lincoln  cabin,  and  a  little  shudder  began 
to  thrill  through  the  small  body,  which  sub 
sided  at  the  cradling  of  the  boy's  strong 
arms. 

"Hush-e,  hush-e,  honey  bird,"  the  boy 
crooned  in  a  voice  of  the  husky  softness  of 
adolescence,  as  he  hugged  her  closer  with 
a  strange  hunger  in  his  serious,  strong  face, 
with  its  dark  eyes  and  square  jaw,  sur 
mounted  by  a  shock  of  black  hair. 

Young  Nancy  took  one  look  at  her  pro 
tector,  snuggled  her  head  close  under  his 
chin,  and  fairly  melted  away  into  the  depths 
of  sleep. 

"They  ain't  no  kind  of  baby  Tom  won't 

4 


THE  MATRIX 

mother,  from  a  nigger  to  a  skunk,"  said 
Mordecai  Lincoln,  as  he  watched  the  boy  go 
slowly,  crooning  to  his  burden,  into  the 
cabin.  "Since  Pa  and  Ma  died  last  year, 
looks  like  his  grieving  has  sorter  set  him  on 
pitiful  things." 

"He  can't  look  after  my  Nancy  none  too 
perticular,  since  we  so  near  lost  her,"  an 
swered  big  Joseph  Hanks,  as  he  followed 
the  boy  and  the  child  with  keen,  watchful, 
tender  eyes.  "Here,  Mother  Nannie,  let  me 
help  you  'light.  Give  mother  a  hand  on  the 
other  side,  Mort;  she's  stiff  from  the  long 
setting  of  this  month's  journey  from  Vir 
ginia." 

"I  make  you  a  hearty  welcome,  Aunt 
Nancy,  and  I  hope  this  house  we  built  fer 
you  here  in  Kentucky  will  suit  your  no 
tions,"  said  Mordecai,  as  he  carefully  helped 
his  aunt  down  from  the  high  seat  on  a  weary 
mule,  back  of  the  pack  saddle  from  which 
sleeping  Nancy  had  been  lifted. 

5 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  '11  ask  for  nothing  more  than  strong 
bars  to  the  doors  and  windows  from  the 
Indian  murderers  that  killed  your  Aunt 
Sarah  Mitchell  and  stole  her  little  Sarah  a 
month  gone,"  answered  the  pioneer  woman 
in  a  firm  voice  that  had  in  it  all  the  sadness 
of  bereavement  but  no  tears. 

"That  you  '11  have,  Aunt  Nancy,  and  mus 
kets  always  on  the  trigger  fer  you  and  yourn. 
But  there  are  'most  too  many  of  us  in  this 
settlement  for  the  red  devils  to  bother  us, 
any  more  now.  They  ain't  raided  since  they 
killed  Pa  and  we  got  five  out  of  six  of  'em," 
big  Mordecai  reassured  her. 

"I  pray  God  it  may  be  so,"  answered  the 
mother  of  Nancy,  as  she  gave  a  last  look 
back  into  the  savage-infested  forest  through 
which  she  had  come,  passed  the  mules  of  the 
caravan  which  her  husband  was  beginning 
to  have  unloaded,  and  went  down  the  path 
through  the  clearing  into  the  home  they  had 
built  in  the  wilderness  for  her. 

6 


THE  MATRIX 

That  night  there  was  a  gathering  of  the 
Lincoln  and  Hanks  clan  in  the  new  Hanks 
home,  in  front  of  the  wide  fireplace  in  which 
was  now  smoldering  only  a  small  spring  fire 
of  fragrant  cedar  chips,  though  into  the 
wide,  dark  cavern  there  could  be  piled  a  half 
wagonload  of  logs  against  the  chill  of  win 
ter  snow. 

At  one  side  of  the  fireplace  sat  huge  Mor- 
decai  Lincoln  with  his  long  gun  between  his 
knees,  telling  his  uncle  Joseph  Hanks  the 
particulars  of  the  death  of  his  father,  follow 
ing  whose  lead  Joseph,  with  his  three  broth 
ers-in-law,  Berry,  Sparrow,  and  Mitchell, 
had  come  out  from  Virginia  to  pioneer  into 
the  lush  bluegrass  valleys  of  the  Dark  and 
Bloody  Ground.  Richard  and  Lucy  Berry 
s:it  beside  him,  listening  and  talking,  eager 
to  hear  it  all  at  once,  for  they  were  to  go  on 
farther  into  the  wilderness  to  their  cabin 
which  had  been  built  on  a  rich  land  claim 
at  Beechland  by  Beach  Fork  River. 

7 


THE  MATRIX 

Mother  Nancy  was  moving  swiftly  about  the 
room,  still  settling  her  household  goods 
though  joining  in  and  directing  the  conver 
sation  ;  and  over  in  the  corner  by  the  flicker 
ing  light  crouched  Tom  Lincoln,  close  to  the 
rude  cot  of  split  cedar  rails  on  whose  inter 
laced  cords  was  swung  the  feather  bed,  in 
which  slept  wee  Nancy.  A  group  of  Berry 
and  Hanks  boys  sat  on  the  floor  beyond  him, 
listening  eagerly  to  the  talk  of  the  men, 
while  Betsy  and  Polly  Hanks  and  Nancy 
Sparrow  crouched  opposite,  knitting  in  the 
firelight. 

"Pa  had  gone  out  into  the  clearing  with 
Josiah  and  both  of  'em  had  set  their  muskets 
against  a  tree  about  fifty  feet  from  the  one 
they  was  felling,  which  they  ought  not  to 
have  done.  I  had  turned  back  to  the  house, 
when  the  six  red  devils  came  outen  the  woods 
and — and  done  for  Pa."  Mordecai  was  re 
lating  with  the  dignified  quiet  of  the  pioneer 
when  under  any  strain  of  emotion.  "Josiah 

8 


THE  MATRIX 

seen  them  split  Pa's  head  open  and  he  fought 
himself  loose  from  'em  and  run.  He  got 
away;  but  after  Ma  died  from  grieving,  in 
a  little  less  than  three  months,  Josh  could  n't 
stand  living  in  the  sight  of  that  clearing  and 
he  went  West.  Pie  'lowed  to  kill  redskins 
as  he  wrent  and  I  reckon  he  did." 

"It  was  the  same  way  with  Brother 
Mitchell,"  said  Joseph  Hanks  with  a  huski- 
ness  in  his  throat,  and  a  hard  glint  in  his 
eyes  as  he  heard  this  simple  story  of  the 
murder  of  his  brother-in-law  by  the  savages, 
who  had  so  nearly  stolen  from  him  his  own 
treasure,  sleeping  warm  and  safe  across  the 
hearth  from  him.  "After  they  had  killed 
Sister  Sarah  and  tooken  Sarah,  about  as  big 
as  Nancy  there,  who  somehow  got  back, 
Mitchell,  he  give  the  two  boy  children  to  their 
Uncle  and  Aunt  Berry  and  lit  out  to  follow 
and  kill.  He  '11  do  it  shore." 

"How  'd  the  redskins  git  at  a  big  party 
like  you  'alls,  Uncle  Jo?"  asked  Mordecai. 

9 


THE  MATRIX 

"With  you  and  Uncle  Dick  Berry  and  Tom 
Sparrow,  and  the  boys  they  must  a-been  ten 
men." 

"We  was  fools,  that 's  how,"  answer  Jos 
eph  as  he  took  a  twist  of  Virginia  tobacco 
from  his  pocket,  cut  a  quid  for  both  Mordecai 
and  Tom  Sparrow,  also  one  for  Richard 
Berry,  which  was  refused,  before  he  put  one 
into  his  own  square  jaw.  "We  was  all 
camped  down  for  the  night  by  that  clear 
spring  at  the  foot  hill  just  after  you  come 
through  the  big  Gap.  We  'd  killed  a  young 
deer,  had  venison  roast  fer  supper,  et  heavy 
and  was  all  tired  out.  Mother  here  had  put 
Nancy  and  Sarah  to  bed  next  a  pillion  fur- 
therest  from  the  fire  on  account  of  wanting 
'em  to  go  to  sleep  away  from  the  talking. 
After  we  was  all  bedded,  here  the  Injuns 
come  down  on  us !  We  had  n't  noticed 
nothing." 

"Yes,  wre  had  noticed  one  thing,"  inter 
rupted  Richard  Berry,  as  Joseph  spat  ex- 

10 


THE  MATRIX 

pertly  into  the  left-hand  corner  of  the  chim 
ney  farthest  from  him.  "As  I  came  back 
from  seeing  to  the  ox  teams  I  heard  an  owl 
hoot  in  a  most  strange  manner,  and  I  told 
Jo  that  it  gave  me  the  creeps.  Did  n't  I, 
Jo?" 

"That  was  about  the  hundredth  and  sixth 
owl  you  had  got  creeps  from  since  you 
started,  Brother  Berry,"  answered  Joseph  as 
he  crossed  fire  in  tobacco  juice  with  Mor- 
decai  Lincoln. 

"That 's  it,  sir,  the  man  who  knows  noth 
ing  knows  all,"  declared  Brother  Berry  with 
genial  acidity  as  he  took  out  a  huge  gold 
snuff  box,  and  by  the  use  of  the  contents 
procured  for  himself  an  equally  huge  sneeze. 
Richard  Berry,  being  both  a  philosopher  and 
a  man  of  comparative  wealth,  was  regarded 
with  respectful  esteem  by  the  entire  family, 
though  he  was  at  all  times  in  friendly  dis 
cord  with  his  brother-in-law,  Joseph  Hanks. 

"You  were  telling  Mort  about  the  raid, 
11 


THE  MATRIX 

Joseph,"  prompted  Mother  Nancy  with  pa 
cific  intent  as  she  gave  satisfied  glances  into 
the  fours  corners  of  the  large  cabin  at  all 
the  pillowed  young  Hanks  heads  beside 
which  were  laid  Mitchell  orphans  and  a  few 
Sparrows  in  the  split-rail  beds. 

"Was  I  a-telling  it  or  Brother  Berry?" 
was  Joseph's  belligerent  answer. 

"Go  on  with  the  narrative,  Brother 
Hanks,"  urged  Mr.  Berry  courteously, 
though  gaining  the  victory  with  the  one 
erudite  word  which  Joseph  Hanks  scorned 
to  notice. 

"As  I  was  a-saying  when  cut  off,  we 
had  n't  noticed  nothing  and  in  the  dead  of 
night  they  lit  on  us  with  a  yell.  I  kicked 
the  chunks  of  fire  together,  and  I  seen  a  big 
Indian  right  by  Sister  Sarah  Mitchell  and— 
the  hardy  pioneer's  words  faltered  and  Lucy 
Berry's  soft  voice  took  up  the  story  with  a 
little  sob: 

"She  didn't  suffer  none,  Mort,  and  she 


THE  MATRIX 

died  before  she  knew  about — about  Sarah 
being  stole  away." 

"We  killed  two  and  lit  out  after  'em  as 
far  as  we  dared  go  from  the  wimmen  and 
children  in  the  dark,"  continued  Joseph  with 
hard  lines  across  his  mouth.  "It  was  a 
whole  hour  before  we  found  they  had  taken 
the  two  little  girls.  God,  Mort,  when  I 
found  my  baby  Nancy  gone  I— 

But  here  an  interruption  occurred  in  the 
tragic  story;  small  Xancy  suddenly  sat  up 
in  her  rude  bed  and  began  to  sob,  looking 
wildly  about  in  the  half  light.  Quickly  her 
mother  started  to  her,  her  father  half  rose 
from  his  seat,  and  Richard  Berry  was  about 
to  ponderously  cross  the  hearth  in  her  direc 
tion  when  she  was  gathered  into  Tom  Lin 
coln's  strong  arms  before  any  of  them  could 
reach  her. 

"Hush-e,  hush-e,  honey  bird,"  he  crooned 
with  his  cheek  on  hers;  and  again  his  charm 
worked.  To  the  astonishment  of  the  rest  of 

13 


THE  MATRIX 

the  sympathetic  party  the  long  lashes  almost 
instantly  fell  over  the  wild  purple  eyes  and 
the  frightened  mite  nestled  back  into  the 
arms  she  had  already  learned  to  trust. 

"That 's  the  first  time  she  ain't  had  a  bad 
crying  spell  when  she  waked  up  since  that 
morning  she  crawled  back  into  camp.  We 
have  n't  ever  been  able  to  ask  her  about  how 
she  got  aloose  'cause  she  begins  to  tremble 
and  cry  for  Sarah,  that  she  loved  as  a  sister, 
if  she  was  only  a  cousin.  We  just  have  to 
tole  her  along  not  to  think  about  it  any 
more,"  said  her  father  in  an  undertone,  as 
they  all  sat  quietly  and  watched  the  big  awk 
ward  boy  rock  and  croon  over  the  five-year- 
old. 

"Tom  sure  has  got  her  pacified.  Let 's 
let  him  take  her  home  with  him,  father,"  said 
William  Hanks,  a  big  strapping  young 
pioneer  of  twenty  years,  with  a  brotherly 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  as  he  looked  at  the  small 
sleeping  girl  in  Tom  Lincoln's  arms. 

14 


THE  MATRIX 

"Rather  have  her  than  a  skunk  kitten, 
Tom?"  questioned  Xed  Berry,  a  swaggering 
sixteen-year-old  boy  with  bright  blue  eyes, 
a  thatch  of  gold  hair  and  almost  as  tall  as 
his  father. 

A  quick,  rare  smile  spread  across  young 
Thomas'  bashful  face  as  he  went  on  with  his 
crooning  and  rocking. 

"She  won't  be  skeered  any  more  after  I 
git  her  tamed,"  he  whispered. 

"Taming  a  woman  is  a  job  that  begins 
again  as  soon  as  it  ends,  Thomas,"  observed 
Mr.  Berry  over  his  snuff  box  as  the  men  be 
gan  to  collect  their  rifles  quietly,  preparatory 
to  betaking  themselves  to  the  hay  mow  in 
the  field,  as  the  cabins  would  be  needed  for 
the  feminine  and  juvenile  members  of  the 
family  party,  until  the  Berry s  and  the  Spar 
rows  should  move  on  to  their  cabins  at 
Beechland.  The  taming  of  Xancy  Hanks 
was  never  accomplished  by  Thomas  Lincoln 
or  the  world  at  large. 

15 


THE  MATRIX 

Perhaps,  when  offered  the  choice,  it  would 
have  been  wiser  for  Tom  to  have  chosen  the 
guardianship  and  education  of  the  skunk  kit 
ten,  rather  than  the  position  of  protector  to 
small  Nancy,  for  she  proved  a  veritable  will- 
o'-the-wisp  to  him,  and  before  she  was  done 
with  him,  beckoned  him  into  far  places. 

"Go  to  Tom,  Nancy,"  became,  as  the  days, 
weeks  and  months  passed,  a  veritable  slogan 
in  the  Hanks  cabin,  teeming  with  and  run 
ning  over  as  it  was  with  pioneer  life  and 
activity. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  make  out  if  Tom 
did  n't  keep  Nancy  safe  and  pacified  so  much 
of  the  time,"  sighed  Mother  Hanks  as  she, 
her  daughters,  Betsy  and  Polly,  and  one 
of  the  frying-size  boys  began  on  the  weekly 
task  of  dipping  candles  in  deer  and  bear  tal 
low  they  had  rendered  in  the  huge  iron  ket 
tle  in  the  open. 

"I  'm  mighty  glad  she  don't  tag  me  like 
she  does  Tom,"  young  Jo  Hanks  congrat- 

16 


THE  MATRIX 

ulated  himself  as  he  shoved  a  fat  pine  chunk 
farther  under  the  big  steaming  kettle. 

"Xancy  gits  her  way  and  goes  it,"  ob 
served  Polly  Hanks  as  she  dipped  a  row  of 
six  strong  cotton  cords,  fastened  in  a  line  on 
a  cedar  slab  into  the  kettle  of  melted  tallow, 
and  waved  them  in  the  air  to  let  the  grease 
harden,  by  repeating  which  process  she  was 
as  sure  to  evolve  six  straight  and  sightly 
candles  as  was  the  old  red  sun  to  set  just  as 
the  time  for  lighting  them  would  arrive. 
"She  et  five  fried  apple  pies  for  her  dinner 
and  looks  like  her  stomick  could  n't  er  held 
more  than  two  under  her  apron.  I  did  n't 
want  to  give  'em  to  her  but  was  afraid  not 
to." 

"She  tooken  three  of  'em  to  Tom,  I  seen 
her  give  'em  to  him.  His  sister  Susie  don't 
give  him  but  two  for  his  dinner.  She  ain't 
his  mother,"  observed  young  Hanks  as  he 
again  fed  the  chunks  to  the  fire  under  the 
candle  factory. 

17 


THE  MATRIX 

"Nobody  but  mothers  understand  rightly 
that  boys  are  hollow  from  hoofs  to  horns," 
observed  Mother  Hanks  as  she  gave  her  row 
of  candles  the  tenth  dip  and  wave,  which 
brought  them  to  about  the  size  of  a  slate  pen 
cil.  "I  must  look  more  careful  after  Tom's 
fodder.  I  don't  think  Mordecai's  wife  is 
child  wise  and  his  good  mother  has  gone  on 
before." 

"Keep  her  soul,  Lord  Jesus,"  said  tall 
Betsy  Hanks  devoutly. 

"Amen!"  answered  Mother  Hanks  as  she 
went  on  with  her  dipping. 

Pioneer  women  had  need  to  lean  heavily 
on  the  "everlasting  arms." 

And  for  more  things  than  the  tending  of 
small  Nancy  could  Thomas  Lincoln  be  de 
pended  upon. 

From  his  earliest  years  Tom  had  been  a 
passionate  woodsman,  and  he  knew  his  Ken 
tucky  forests  as  well  as  any  redskin  on  the 
Dark  and  Bloody  Ground,  and  loved  them 

18 


THE  MATRIX 

as  well.  Pie  watched  all  the  trees  and 
bushes  through  their  spring  budding,  their 
summer  leafing,  past  their  gaudy  autumn 
parade  to  their  winter  starkness,  and  knew 
accurately  what  their  processes  would  yield 
in  food,  fuel  and  clothing  for  man  and  beast. 
The  entire  Lincoln  household  counted  on  the 
great  piles  of  hickory  and  walnuts  that  Tom 
gathered,  hulled,  sunned  and  stored,  while  the 
autumn  sun  shone,  against  the  long  nights 
by  the  big  winter  fires.  Day  after  day  he 
brought  in  great  branches  of  elderberry  for 
wine,  and  long  vines  of  wild  grape  for  jelly, 
the  sugar  for  which  he  obtained  in  the  spring 
from  tapping  the  tall  maple  trees ;  and  only 
Tom  knew  how  to  select  the  ears  of  Indian 
corn  that  would  pop  into  white  kernels  on 
the  hot  stones  before  the  fire. 

"Bird,  beast  and  root,  Tom  could  make  his 
living  if  you  turned  him  loose  in  the  woods," 
his  brother  Mordecai  remarked  boastfully 
to  his  uncle  Jo  Hanks,  though  the  guard- 

19 


THE  MATRIX 

lanship  of  young  Thomas,  which  had  fallen 
upon  his  shoulders  at  the  death  of  his  par 
ents,  sat  lightly  upon  him. 

"Why  don't  you  teach  him  to  read?"  his 
uncle  Joseph  asked,  as  he  steadied  a  tall 
cedar  post  that  huge  Mordecai  was  raising 
upon  which  to  nail  the  timbers  for  a  new 
shack. 

"Got  no  time  to  fool  with  him.  He  's  all 
right;  as  long  as  a  boy  has  rabbit  and  bear 
and  turkey  track  to  set  his  traps  by,  he  don't 
need  to  read  and  write  books."  This  educa 
tional  value  was  decided  by  the  own  uncle 
of  the  man  who  less  than  a  century  later  de 
livered  an  address  at  Gettysburg  which  is 
the  foundation  stone  upon  which  rests  Amer 
ican  literature. 

"Shoo,  Nancy  knows  her  a-b's  right  now, 
and  says  'em  to  me  every  night.  She  is 
going  to  graduate  to  c-a-t  tonight  if  I  get 
home  in  time,"  bragged  Joseph,  the  father 
of  Nancy,  as  he  tramped  the  dirt  tight 

20 


THE  MATRIX 

around  the  pole,  while  Mordecai  went  on  to 
another. 

"Well,  Xancy  can  read  Tom's  'cats'  to 
him  and  let  him  keep  to  the  turkey  tracks," 
Mordecai  answered,  as  he  bent  his  broad 
back  to  the  raising  of  a  pole  that  it  would 
take  four  of  his  descendants  to  lift  from  the 
ground. 

Thus  arbitrarily  was  dismissed  the  educa 
tion  of  Thomas  Lincoln,  the  father  of  Abra 
ham. 

Pioneer  life  is  hard  at  its  best,  and  is  there 
not  some  excuse  for  not  setting  a  getter  of 
rations  at  spelling  book  and  pot  hooks,  when 
the  family  pot  is  always  in  danger  of  show 
ing  an  empty  bottom!-  It  is  just  not  to  re 
sent  the  fact  that  Thomas  Lincoln  was 
forced  to  spend  a  great  part  of  his  life  in 
the  woods  tracking  and  trapping,  until  the 
advent  into  his  life  of  Xancy  Hanks,  who 
had  herself  been  tracked  and  trapped. 


21 


CHAPTER  II 

AND  the  arrival  of  Nancy  Hanks  into 
the  trapping  profession  of  Tom  Lin 
coln  on  a  July  morning  was  with  the  cy 
clonic  violence  of  cloud  and  tear  burst  fol 
lowed  by  sunshine.  It  happened  in  this  way. 
A  half  mile  down  on  Lincoln  Creek,  Tom 
had  set  his  traps  to  catch  young  frying  size 
turkeys,  which  begin  to  run  free  about  the 
last  of  June.  He  had  been  urged  to  an 
early  trapping  because  Jo  and  Bill  Hanks 
had  been  out  for  deer  two  days  before  and 
had  come  in  with  six  of  the  young  bronze 
poults  hanging  from  their  belts.  That  night 
Mother  Hanks  had  had  a  great  wild  turkey 
fry  and  Nancy  had  run  down  the  dirt  road 
to  the  Lincoln  house  to  summon  Tom,  as  was 

22 


THE  MATRIX 

her  habit  when  ever  the  huge  fire  in  the  little 
lean-to  log  kitchen  of  her  own  abode  gave 
forth  what  seemed  to  her  a  particularly  at 
tractive  odor. 

"Better  feed  him  some  of  that  c-a-t  outen 
your  spelling  book,  Nancy,  instead  of  fried 
turkey,"  teased  huge  Mordecai,  as  he 
pushed  his  rush-bottomed  chair  back  from 
his  own  scoured  table,  which  had  been  split 
with  an  axe  out  of  a  cedar  tree  that  had 
grown  a  century  for  that  utilitarian  pur 
pose. 

"Not  me,  never,"  retorted  Tom,  as  he 
wiped  his  mouth  on  his  hickory  shirt  sleeve. 
"Reading  is  for  girls." 

"Or  maybe  he'd  eat  a  little  d-o-g  for  you, 
Nancy,"  jeered  Mordecai's  wife,  Susie,  as 
she  polished  the  grease  off  a  bunch  of  small 
Lincoln  countenances  with  the  end  of  a 
homespun  towel,  wet  from  a  gourd  dipped  in 
the  cedar  piggin  of  water  by  the  door. 

"Hush  up  your  mouth,  Cousin   Susie," 

£3 


THE  MATRIX 

flamed  back  Nancy  with  rage,  fairly  snap 
ping  from  the  black  fringed  violet  eyes  at 
what  her  six  years  was  able  to  recognize  as 
an  insult  to  her  beloved  protector. 

"Don't  talk  mean  to  Tom.  My  mother 
says  always  save  the  liver  wing  'for  him 
'cause  his  mother  is  dead.' ' 

"Jest  listen  to  the  sass-box,"  further 
jeered  the  rough  young  pioneer  woman,  as 
she  began  to  bed  her  two-headed  brood. 

"Shoo,  Susie,  let  the  little  maid  be,"  cau 
tioned  Mordecai,  "don't  you  know  that  she  's 
Uncle  Jo  and  Aunt  Nancy's  pie-child  since 
the  redskins  almost  got  her?  Here,  Nancy, 
take  a  slab  of  Cousin  Susie's  sweet  cake  with 
hickory  nuts  in  it."  As  he  spoke  he  held 
out  a  slice  of  the  delicacy  to  the  important 
and  offended  young  relative. 

For  a  moment  Nancy  eyed  the  offered 
appeasement  haughtily,  then  the  sunshine 
broke  over  her  face,  curled  the  young  lips 
into  a  moist  rose  bud  flanked  with  rippling 

24 


THE  MATRIX 

dimples,  and  she  held  out  her  brown,  briar- 
scratehed  little  hand  with  a  gurgle  of  joy. 

"Thank  you,  Cousin  Susie,"  she  said  with 
a  funny  little  bob  and  back  step  of  one  dusty 
stump-toed  foot,  which  was  a  pioneer  ver 
sion  of  a  curtsey  brought  with  other  gentle 
traditions  by  Mother  Hanks  from  Virginia. 

Mordecai  laughed  heartily  at  the  tactful 
assault  on  his  rough  and  tumble  wife,  who  se 
cretly  adored  the  dainty  young  lady  cousin, 
and  was  determinedly  modelling  the  tow 
heads  upon  her  pattern. 

"Ain't  she  the  beauty  though,"  observed 
big  Mordecai,  as  he  watched  Nancy  go  down 
the  road  hand  in  hand  with  burly,  awkward 
Tom  in  his  hickory  shirt  and  butternut  jeans 
trousers,  with  rawhide  suspenders  holding 
them  together.  "She  split  that  slab  of  cake 
with  Tom  in  justice  and  they  is  both  a- 
munching  away  fer  dear  life." 

"She  sure  have  got  a  way  with  you  men 
folks  and  boys.  You  notice  her  against  her 

25 


THE  MATRIX 

own  good,"  rough  Susan  began  to  complain. 

"Here,  let  me  tote  a  couple  of  buckets  of 
water  from  the  spring  fer  you,"  Mordecai 
offered  as  a  price  for  escape  from  a  scold 
ing,  the  like  of  which  he  had  encoantered  be 
fore.  Susan's  vicious  jealousy  was  a  fire 
that  smouldered  to  blaze  at  the  slightest 
provocation  and  the  atmosphere  of  her 
household  was  often  sultry  from  the  con 
flagration. 

"You  're  soft  about  both  Tom  and  Nancy 
and  you  'd  better  keep  it  for  your  own  chil 
dren  and  me,"  she  grumbled  after  his  re 
treating  figure. 

"Well,  you  make  it  hard  enough  for  Tom 
with  Ma  gone,"  Mordecai  ventured  back 
from  a  safe  distance,  then  went  whistling  on 
his  way. 

Susan's  blaze  flared  on  the  kitchen  thresh 
old. 

"Git  your  supper  outen  the  skillet  and  git 
out  of  my  sight,"  she  commanded  a  little 

26 


THE  MATRIX 

double  jointed,  round  headed  negro  boy  by 
name  Runt,  whose  mother,  in  a  high  red 
cotton  turban,  was  shifting  the  pots  and  skil 
lets  in  the  big  fireplace.  The  Lincoln 
mother  had  brought  Mammy  Jude  and  her 
family  from  Virginia  with  her,  and  while  the 
black  woman  and  her  husband  and  children 
had  gone  with  the  land  to  big  Mordecai, 
after  the  English  first-son  custom,  to  which 
Virginians  held  for  many  generations,  to 
Tom  had  been  given  the  little  Runt. 

On  her  death  bed,  to  which  she  had  taken 
after  seeing  her  husband  brought  home  from 
the  murdering  Indians,  gentle  Mary  Lin 
coln  had  said  to  Mordecai : 

"Give  Tom  Jude's  Runt.  He's  pitiful 
in  nature  and  will  look  after  the  poor 
thing." 

"All  right,  Ma,"  Mordecai  had  answered, 
and  Mordecai  Lincoln's  word  was  as  good 
as  any  man's  word  or  bond.  The  Runt  was 
Tom's  property. 

27 


THE  MATRIX 

But  being  "Tom's  nigger"  often  brought 
the  hand  of  Susan  down  heavily  upon  the 
fate  of  Runt.  He  knew  when  to  vanish 
into  thin  air. 

The  turkey  fry  at  Mother  Hanks'  could 
have  been  fairly  called  a  successful  repast, 
and  Nancy  gathered  a  pile  of  drum  bones,  a 
few  wings  and  a  back  to  give  on  a  clean 
cedar  chip  to  the  Runt,  who  at  all  times 
squatted  beside  the  door  of  any  interior 
which  contained  his  master,  Tom. 

"Runt,"  said  Tom,  as  he  came  to  the  door. 
"We  '11  set  snares  tonight.  These  Hankses 
beat  us  onct,  but  we  '11  ketch  up  with  'em  and 
get  a  dozen  poults  fer  Aunt  Nancy  tomor 
row." 

"We  shure  will,"  answered  the  Runt  with 
a  grin  nearly  a  foot  wide  as  Nancy  reap 
peared  in  the  back  door  beside  Tom  with  a 
slice  of  bread  and  brown  sugar  for  him. 

"Nice  little  Runt,"  she  said,  as  she 
watched  the  dainty  feed  the  grin. 

28 


THE  MATRIX 

The  Runt's  smile  was  sugared  adoration. 

It  was  on  the  following  day  that  Tom  and 
the  Runt  got  into  trouble  with  young  Nancy. 

It  happened  on  the  edge  of  the  forest 
where  they  had  set  their  snares  in  the  dead 
of  night  and  it  perhaps  was  the  spark  that 
started  the  conflagration  of  1861. 

"Glory,  Mars  Tom,  they  is  three  in  this 
pen  and  hit  is  the  furst  one.  We  '11  shore 
git  our  dozen  fer  Miss  Nancy  ter  day," 
chuckled  the  Runt  as  he  knelt  by  the  square 
prison,  made  of  latticed  cedar  sticks  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  three  beautiful  bronze 
wild  things  when  they  hopped  on  the  spring, 
while  feeding  on  the  corn  he  had  spread 
cunningly  thereunder.  Runt  was  as  captive 
as  they,  only  did  n't  realize  it  and  failed  to 
beat  against  the  custom  that  caged  him  as 
they  beat  their  bronze  wings  and  breasts 
against  the  cedar  sticks. 

"We  '11  just  tie  their  feet  together  and  go 
get  the  others  further  down  stream  and  kill 

29 


THE  MATRIX 

'em  all  at  onct,"  directed  Tom  as  he  bent  to 
examine  his  catch.  "They  shore  are  fat  and 
Aunt  Nancy  will— 

And  then  the  volcano  whirled  into  the  sit 
uation. 

Small  Nancy  splashed  across  the  creek 
upon  her  usual  adventure  of  tagging  Tom, 
and  stood  beside  the  two  boys  kneeling  upon 
the  ground,  tying  the  feet  of  the  young  tur 
keys. 

"I  saw  you  a-going,  Tom  Lincoln,  with 
out  me  and  then  I  had  to  come  to  find  you 
and — what  is  that,  Tom?" 

The  child  had  put  her  arm  around  Tom's 
neck  and  bent  to  see  what  it  was  in  which  he 
and  Runt  were  so  absorbed  with  excited  in 
terest,  and  then  suddenly  she  stood  erect 
with  horror  freezing  her  laughing  face. 

"What  is  it,  Tom?"  she  asked  again,  with 
a  flutter  in  her  throat. 

"It 's  a  snare  we  Ve  trapped  some  poults 
in  fer  supper,  honey  bird,"  Tom  answered. 

30 


THE  MATRIX 

"We  are  going  to  tie  their  legs  and  take  'em 
home  to  kill." 

"No,  Tom,  no !  Let  'em  go  quick,  quick !" 
Nancy  suddenly  wailed  as  she  stood  shud 
dering  with  her  face  in  her  hands.  "I  can't 
stand  it,  Tom,  let  'em  go." 

"But  you  et  poults  that  Bill  and  Jo  shot 
for  supper  last  night,  Nancy,"  remon 
strated  Tom,  while  Runt  sat  back  on  his 
bare  feet  and  rolled  his  big  eyes  with  help 
less  astonishment  as  this  battle,  which  was 
to  be  for  his  ultimate  freedom,  began. 
"I  'm  the  champeen  trapper  and  hunter 
hereabouts  and  you  don't  want  'em  to  shame 
me,  do  you?" 

"Them  poults  was  killed  when  they  did  n't 
know  it,  Tom.  They  was  n't  tied.  Let  'em 
go,  let  'em  go.  I  can't  stand  it.  Nobody 
otighter  tie  nothing  alive." 

"But,  Nancy,  honey,  we  are  going  to— 

At  this  Nancy  took  her  hands  down  from 
her  white  little  face  in  which  her  violet  eyes 

31 


THE  MATRIX 

blazed  with  a  great  fire,  while  her  small  body 
shook  from  her  bare  stumped  toes  to  the 
crown  of  her  red-brown  hair,  and  the  wound 
in  her  own  bosom  was  laid  bare  and  began 
to  flow  for  the  saving  of  the  small  forest  cap 
tives  of  the  present,  and  perhaps  for  the 
liberation  of  a  multitude  in  the  distant  fu 
ture.  Fear  had  been  dammed  up  in  her 
childish  heart  and  had  eaten  into  her  vitals. 
Now  the  gates  of  her  emotions  were  opened. 
"Let  'em  go,  Tom,  let  'em  go,"  she  wailed. 
"That  Indian  what  carried  me  away  in  the 
night  over  his  shoulder,  he  put  his  hand  on 
my  throat  and  squeezed  it  so  I  could  n't  call 
Daddy.  He  walked  and  he  walked  and  he 
walked  in  the  dark  right  towards  a  big  star, 
and  then  he  stopped  and — and — and  he  tied 
Sarah  and  me  with  ropes  to  a  tree  while 
they  all  drinked  outen  bottles  and  went  to 
sleep.  Sarah  cried  and  cried  but  I — I  jest 
gnawed  and  gnawed  at  that  rope  until  I  got 
loose.  I  put  my  back  to  the  star  and  runned 

32 


THE  MATRIX 

and  runned,  while  the  Indian  was  asleep, 
and  got  back  to  my  Daddy  and  Mother,  but, 
oh  Tom,  Sarah  is  still  tied  and  crying. 
Xothing  in  this  world  ought  to  be  tied.  Let 
'em  go  free,  Tom,  let  'em  go  free." 

The  dark  eyes  in  the  somber  boy's  face 
caught  fire  from  the  flame  in  those  of  the 
small  woman  above  him,  and  with  a  twist  he 
snapped  the  bit  of  hemp  cord  and  threw  the 
poults  high  into  the  air. 

"Lordy!"  yelled  the  black,  not  taking  in 
the  situation,  though  it  touched  him  most 
nearly. 

"Go  turn  'em  all  out  of  the  snares,  Runt," 
Tom  said  quietly.  "We  '11  take  the  guns 
and  go  see  how  many  we  can  shoot  on  the 
wing." 

"And  never  shut  up  and  tie  no  more, 
Tom?"  Xancy  questioned,  with  a  radiance 
breaking  all  over  her  storm-tossed  little  face. 
"Oh,  Tom!"  With  which  she  clung  to  him 
fiercely  and  pressed  her  face  against  his 

33 


THE  MATRIX 

hickory  shirt  just  about  at  the  height  of  the 
tender  heart  in  his  left  breast. 

"Because  you  was  tied  I  '11  never  tie 
nothin'  again,  Nancy,"  Tom  answered,  and 
with  which  vow  he  took  upon  himself  a  fate 
that  followed  him  even  until  his  three-score 
and  tenth  year.  "Now  go  on  home,  while  I 
stand  here  and  watch  you.  You  know  you 
ain't  'lowed  this  far  in  the  clearing  without 
nobody  watching  you.  We  got  to  do  some 
hunting  today  or  git  beat  by  the  Hankses." 

"I  '11  go  back,  but  don't  you  never  again 
go  nowhere  without  asking  me  if  you  kin. 
I  'm  going  to  always  follow  you,"  was  the 
autocratic  answer,  as  young  Nancy  pre 
pared  to  take  her  departure,  thoroughly  her 
self  again. 

"Well,  git,"  answered  Tom  with  an  in 
dulgent  twinkle  in  his  grave  eyes,  that  came 
only  at  his  small  charge's  most  outrageous 
demands.  "When  you  git  big  enough  to 
wear  a  apron,  you  kin  tie  me  to  its  strings." 

84 


"Hush  your  mouth,"  flung  back  Nancy, 
making  spray  fly  as  she  splashed  across  the 
creek. 

"Aunt  Nancy  said  you  had  to  learn  two 
Bible  verses  if  you  said  that  sass  to  anybody 
again,"  Tom  called  across  to  the  bank  on 
which  Nancy  stood,  poised  for  a  barefoot 
flight  down  the  road  towards  the  Hanks 
cabins  in  the  distance. 

"Well,  you  ain't  anybody,"  was  the  an 
swer  flung  at  him  over  a  flying  shoulder. 

"Huh-who-huh,"  guffawed  Runt  from  a 
little  distance  in  the  clearing. 

"You  come  on  with  that  gun  if  you  'low 
for  us  to  git  more  than  any  dozen  poults  this 
day,"  commanded  Tom.  With  which  he 
and  his  bondman  disappeared  into  the  wil 
derness. 

The  day's  bag  was  fourteen  poults  shot 
on  the  wing  and  the  Lincoln  records  were 
again  safe. 

"What  made  you  shoot  all  day  instead  of 

35 


THE  MATRIX 

snaring  what  you  could  have  done  in  an 
hour  or  two,  Tom?"  questioned  big  Morde- 
cai,  who  had  come  over  to  his  aunt's  for 
supper  at  the  news  of  this  second  turkey  fry, 
bringing  Susan  and  one  of  her  nut  cakes 
with  him. 

Joseph  Hanks,  young  Jo,  Billy,  Mor- 
decai,  and  the  other  boys  were  taking  their 
ease  in  the  twilight  with  their  rush-bottomed 
chairs  tilted  back  against  the  front  of  the 
cabin.  Mother  Hanks  sat  in  her  rocker  and 
Susan  Lincoln  and  Polly  sat  on  a  bench  un 
der  the  huge  oak  roof  trees  knitting,  while 
Betsy  within  was  putting  the  household  in 
order  for  bedding.  There  was  also  a  guest 
of  honor  for  the  occasion,  as  Richard  Berry 
had  ridden  over  from  Beechland,  bringing 
saddlebags  of  gifts  from  sister  to  sister  and 
a  head  full  of  news  and  contentions,  the  lat 
ter  especially  for  his  beloved  brother-in-law, 
Joseph  Hanks.  He  sat  in  a  large  arm-chair 
and  Nancy,  his  beloved,  sat  upon  his  knee, 

36 


THE  MATRIX 

while  Tom  Lincoln  lounged  on  the  ground 
near  by,  with  Runt  crouched  in  the  shadow 
back  of  him. 

"Yes,  w^hat  did  you  shoot  fer,  Tom,  with 
powder  as  skeerce  as  you  know  it  is?"  Susan 
quarreled  at  the  boy,  thus  scarring  Tom's 
moment  of  triumph  with  her  sordid  ill  tem 
per  and  dislike. 

"Shoo,  Susie,  don't  ja\v  the  lad  when  he  's 
made  a  record  of  six  above  any  man's  in  the 
settlement,"  admonished  Richard  Berry,  he 
being  the  only  person  present  who  dared  to 
take  issue  with  Susan's  bad  temper.  "Your 
nigger  did  n't  shoot  none  for  you,  did  he, 
Tom?"  he  joked. 

"I  'd  jest  like  to  see  anybody  in  this  set 
tlement  dignify  a  nigger  with  a  gun,"  Susan 
snapped,  in  spite  of  the  curb  put  upon  her  by 
the  revered  brother-in-law,  Berry. 

"No,  sir,  Runt  can't  shoot,"  answered 
Tom. 

"You  '11  both  git  back  to  your  trapping 
37 


THE  MATRIX 

after  this  show  off  with  valuable  gun  pow 
der,"  growled  Susan. 

"Tom  ain't  never  going  to  trap  nothing 
alive  any  more.  He  promised  me,"  an 
nounced  small  Nancy  from  her  perch  upon 
the  august  Berry  knee. 

"Well,  I  reckon  the  Lincoln  family  will 
starve  next  winter  f er  rabbit  stew  if  you  say 
so,  Nancy,"  jeered  Susan. 

"Hush  your  mouth,  Cousin  Susie — yes, 
Mother,  I  '11  learn  three  verses  of  the  Bible 
for  the  sass — and  don't  say  Tom  will  any 
more  tie  up  and  trap  things.  No  big  In 
dian  ever  squeezed  your  throat  and  tied  you 
with  a  rope  you  had  to  gnaw  to  git  back  to 
your  Daddy  and  your  uncle  Berry.  Oh, 
say,  Tom  won't  have  to  tie  'em  any  more, 
Uncle  Berry,"  with  which  the  small  cham 
pion  of  liberty  began  to  tremble  and  cling 
to  the  head  of  the  family  with  his  gold  snuff 
box. 

"Praise    God    she    has    spoken    out    and 

38 


maybe  we  can  hear  something  about  little 
Sarah,"  ejaculated  Mother  Hanks. 

"Sarah  cried  and  cried  while  I  gnawed 
the  rope.  She  would  n't  gnaw,"  Nancy 
sat  up  and  said  with  a  flame  in  her  eyes. 
"A  man  Indian  wanted  to  slap  her  but  a 
woman  Indian  would  n't  let  him." 

"I  reckon  mother  hearts  are  about  the 
same  size,  white  or  red,"  ejaculated  Mother 
Hanks,  clasping  her  hands  with  their  knit 
ting  needles  to  her  bosom.  "I  pray  protec 
tion  for  the  child  if  alive  from  the  dear 
Lord." 

"Amen,  Sister  Nancy,"  answered  Mr. 
Berry  devoutly. 

"Because  I  was  tied,  me  and  Tom  ain't 
never  going  to  tie  things,"  intrepid  Nancy 
continued  shrewdly,  determined  to  have  the 
matter  out  in  family  council,  while  she  would 
have  the  weight  of  Uncle  Berry's  opinion  on 
her  side  as  she  was  sure  from  former  expe 
riences  it  would  be  cast. 

39 


THE  MATRIX 

"The  question  of  human  freedom  is  agita 
ting  the  United  States  just  about  as  much 
as  the  question  of  animal  liberty  is  rippling 
the  surface  of  our  family  circle,"  Mr.  Berry 
declaimed  over  his  gold  snuff  box,  thus 
suavely  covering  the  minor  particular  ques 
tion  with  the  larger,  general  one.  "I  see 
the  Massachusetts  State  is  for  selling  the 
blacks  into  the  Southern  colonies  and  free 
ing  their  consciences  while  filling  their  pock- 
etbooks.  The  blacks  die  in  Massachusetts." 

"We  '11  take  'em  all,"  said  Joseph  Hanks, 
surveying  his  clearing  which  was  beginning 
to  stretch  deep  into  the  primeval  forest.  "I 
am  thinking  to  buy  two  good  bucks  before 
snow  flies." 

"A  trader  came  into  Beechland  last  month 
and  I  bought  a  likely  black  boy  six  feet  two 
for  six  hundred  dollars.  He  ran  away  and 
caught  up  with  the  trader  before  morning," 
Mr.  Berry  related,  after  a  pinch  of  snuff  and 
its  results. 

40 


THE  MATRIX 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"Brought  him  back  and  confined  him  a 
few  days!"  The  big*  word  got  past  small 
Xancy  on  his  knee  trying  to  listen  but  nod 
ding  drowsily. 

"Did  it  work?" 

"Yes,  after  Lucy  had  made  me  ride  a  day 
and  a  night  to  buy  his  wife  and  two  yearling 
pickaninnies  from  the  trader  at  four  hun 
dred  and  fifty.  Got  'em  both  working  out 
a  cotton  patch  and  the  louder  they  sing  the 
faster  they  work.  They  are  as  fat  and 
happy  as  chipmunks.  Here,  Tom,  take 
your  baby  into  the  house,  she  's  fast  asleep." 

"Yes,  take  her,  Tom,  she  won't  know  it  if 
you  move  her,  and  1  don't  want  her  to  wake 
and  cry  for  Sarah,"  said  Mother  Hanks  as 
her  needles  began  to  fly  again. 

Tom  reached  up  and  took  small  Nancy 
into  his  arms,  but  instead  of  carrying  her 
in  to  bed,  he  cradled  her  on  his  knees  and 
listened  to  the  rest  of  the  conversation  as  it 

41 


THE  MATRIX 

meandered  over  the  question  of  the  right  or 
wrong  of  human  liberty. 

"Well,  I  'low  I  '11  be  able  to  keep  two 
bucks  if  I  git  'em,"  drawled  Joseph  Hanks. 

"Well,  I  must  say  I  sorter  sympathize  in 
my  conscience  with  Massachusetts  about 
freedom,  but  my  tobacco  and  cotton  have 
got  to  be  worked,"  said  Mr.  Berry.  "I 
can't  feel  like  the  Lord  intended  us  to  buy 
and  sell  human  beings." 

"That  ain't  the  way  to  look  at  it,  Brother 
Berry,"  Joseph  Hanks  answered  as  he 
rolled  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  mouth.  "He 
brought  'em  outen  savage  lands  fer  us  to 
make  human  beings  of  and  we  Ve  got  to 
have  the  say  over  'em  same  as  our  children, 
'cause  they  have  got  no  more  sense  than  chil 
dren." 

"Then  if  it 's  right  for  Uncle  Berry  to  tie 
up  and  buy  and  sell  his  nigger,  it  is  right  for 
you  to  tie  up  and  buy  and  sell  me,  which  it 
ain't.  Ever}rbody  oughter  be  free  of  every- 

42 


THE  MATRIX 

body."  Tom  Lincoln's  quiet  voice,  in 
which  the  deep  tones  of  a  man  made  a  bass 
for  the  soprano  notes  that  still  lingered  from 
his  boyhood,  cut  into  the  conversation.  As 
he  spoke,  Xancy  stirred  in  his  arms  and  he 
rose  and  took  her  into  the  house  away  from 
the  argument. 

"That  boy  has  got  more  curious  notions 
than  a  dominicker  hen  has  got  stripes,  and 
he  's  jest  as  techy  as  she  is  when  setting," 
observed  young  Jo  Hanks.  "Not  trapping 
'cause  Xancy  don't  want  him  to,  huh?" 

"Well,  if  Xancy  don't  want  him  to  he 
ain't  a-going  to  if  it  reminds  her  of  In 
dians,"  decided  big  Mordecai  with  shrewd 
indulgence,  for  he  was  mindful  of  the  fact 
that  he  \vas  to  enter  a  triangle  mule  deal 
with  his  uncles  Hanks  and  Berry  in  the 
morning  and  he  wanted  them  unruffled  by 
trouble  with  the  mutual  apple  of  their  eyes. 
"Runt  can  do  the  trapping  and  keep  it  outer 
Xancy's  sight.  Tom 's  big  enough  for 

48 


THE  MATRIX 

learning  carpentering  with  Joe  here,  any 
way." 

"Yes,  I'd  like  to  learn  him  on  that  new 
barn  we  all  are  going  to  raise  next  week," 
said  young  Jo  with  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his 
eyes,  very  like  his  father's.  "Tom  is  as  big 
and  strong  as  any  man  now,  if  only  sixteen. 
Wanter  work  with  me,  Tom?"  While  he 
was  speaking  Tom  had  deposited  Nancy  in 
her  sister  Betsy's  care  and  returned  to  the 
family  conclave. 

"Yes,"  answered  Tom  quietly,  thus  re 
nouncing  for  himself  the  freedom  of  a 
woodsman  to  tie  himself  to  a  carpenter's 
bench  because  of  his  promise  to  the  cause  of 
freedom  he  had  given  Nancy  Hanks  in  the 
sixth  year  of  her  existence,  A.  D.  1790. 


T 


IME  raced  along  with  the  years  for 
small  Xancy  Hanks  on  the  fleet  wings 
of  the  wild  geese  driving  north  in  the  sum 
mer  and  south  in  the  winter.  The  blush  of 
pink-budded  springs  deepened  to  the  flush 
of  golden  and  empurpled  autumns.  Sum 
mers  came  and  passed  with  seed  time  and 
harvests.  The  fields  were  now  once  and 
again  in  bloom  with  delicate  daisy-like  wild 
flowers  which  follow  the  wake  of  the  cradlers 
of  grain.  The  zig-zag  worm-like  fences  of 
rails,  dividing  the  fields,  fenced  in  their  cor 
ners  riots  of  crimson  vines,  and  tall  regi 
ments  of  golden  rod  that  defied  the  autumns 
and  the  harvests  until  the  snow  flurries  of 
winter  seared  them  and  laid  them  low. 
The  small  Nancy  waxed  strong  and  grew; 

45 


THE  MATRIX 

how  she  grew !  The  little  settlement  on  Lin 
coln  Creek,  which  had  grown  with  her 
growth  into  a  hamlet  of  a  score  or  more 
houses  with  a  log  tavern  for  passers  on  the 
Wilderness  Trail,  and  a  clapboarded  roofed 
church,  marveled  with  pride  in  her  prowess 
and  spoiled  her  as  if  she  wrere  some  young 
princess  of  the  royal  blood. 

"Yes,  Miss  Nancy  is  training  me  to  train 
vines  in  my  sixtieth  year  with  no  regard  to 
my  rheumatics  at  all,"  grumbled  tall,  lean 
Mr.  George  Haskins,  the  tavern  keeper,  to 
Elder  Jesse  Head,  the  Methodist  Circuit 
Rider,  who  sat  on  the  front  porch  ne'ar 
the  door.  Mr.  Haskins  stood  on  an  up 
turned  barrel  and  wound  the  tough  shoots  of 
a  scarlet  trumpet  vine  over  the  doorway  of 
the  log  tavern,  while  nine-year-old  Nancy 
stood  beneath  him  with  strings,  a  hammer 
and  some  sharp  wooden  pegs  to  use  as  nails. 

"I  think  having  vines  all  over  houses  is 
like  wearing  Sunday  clothes  that  don't  cost 

46 


THE  MATRIX 

nothing,"  remarked  young  Nancy  with 
dancing  eyes,  as  she  reached  up  a  peg  and 
the  hammer  to  her  victim,  who  was  steady 
ing  himself  against  the  cedar  post  on  which 
the  sign  "Log-Tavern"  hung.  "I  'm  going 
to  bring  you  some  camphor  and  bear  grease 
ointment  to  rub  your  back  with,  Mr.  Has- 
kins.  Mother  let  me  make  it  myself," 
Nancy  tendered  in  a  spirit  of  fair  trade. 

"Is  the  grease  outen  that  bear  Tom  Lin 
coln  shot  last  fall,  when  it  was  making  off 
with  Brother  Haskins'  heifer  calf?"  asked 
the  Circuit  Rider  with  interest,  for  Tom's 
exploit  with  the  big  brown  marauder  at 
twenty  paces,  a  last  load  in  his  old  flint-lock 
and  with  a  damp  powder-horn,  had  been  the 
epic  of  the  rush-bottom-chair  hunters'  con 
claves  for  the  entire  past  winter. 

"Naw,  Nancy  hev  rubbed  all  the  grease 
outen  that  bear  on  Tom's  hair  this  winter  fer 
singin'  school,  and  then  it  has  looked  like 
a  wore-out  twig  broom  at  that,"  Mr. 

47 


THE  MATRIX 

Haskins  answered  as  he  pounded  in  the  peg 
for  the  confining  of  the  trumpeter. 

"Last  Sunday  night  at  meeting  Tom's 
head  was  slick  enough  for  a  fly  to  slip  up  to 
his  death  on.  I  testify  to  that  myself,"  the 
Circuit  Rider  hastened  to  say  as  he  saw  a 
retort  forming  itself  within  Nancy  which 
might  upset  the  trainer  of  the  vines,  for  the 
purple  eyes  were  emitting  flashes  from  back 
of  their  black  defenses  that  Elder  Head  and 
Brother  Haskins  both  knew  to  forerun  a 
storm.  "Tom  has  got  a  great  power  in  his 
voice  when  he  sings  Rock  of  Ages  with  you 
helping  him,  Nancy." 

"Tom  kinder  got  tangled  in  his  tune  when 
he  tried  to  sing  outen  the  same  book  with 
Sallie  Bush  at  night  services,  her  in  that 
dimity  her  father  had  brung  all  the  way  from 
Philadelphia  on  mule  pack,"  Mr.  Haskins 
observed  as  he  drove  the  last  peg  and  tied 
the  last  string.  "What  about  Tom  and  Sal- 
lie,  Nancy?" 

48 


THE  MATRIX 

"Oh,  I  think  Sallie  is  jest  beautiful  in  that 
dress  and  I  '11  let  her  sing  with  Tom  all  she 
wants  to,"  answered  Xancy  with  feminine 
rapture  over  the  beautiful  Sallie  and  her 
apparel,  thus  evincing  a  generosity  which 
was  most  unfeminine.  The  heart  of  nine 
years  is  usually  as  generous  and  sexless  as 
that  of  a  white-feathered  cherub. 

It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  tenderness  in  the 
rough  pioneer's  heart  that  he  winked  at  the 
butternut-breeched  divine  under  his  roof 
tree,  and  desisted  in  any  attempt  to  make  a 
jealous  rift  in  the  lute  of  the  small  cherub 
to  whom  he  handed  the  hammer  and  nails. 

"Well,  if  you  keep  Tom  greased  up  well, 
I  reckon  Sallie  will  be  proper  grateful  to 
you,  Xancy;  bear-greased  hair  is  a  good 
courting  aid,"  he  observed  with  another 
wink.  "Any  more  jobs  you  want  to  put  on 
my  poor  back?" 

"Xo,  thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Xancy 
with  a  sudden  resolve  beginning  to  burn  in 

49 


THE  MATRIX 

her  purple  eyes.  "What  else  is  good  aids 
on  courting  a  beautiful  young  lady,  Mr. 
Raskins?" 

"Waal,  now,  how  about  clean  hands  and 
neck  and  ears  and  shirt,  Brother  Head?" 
Mr.  Haskins  consulted  the  elder  with  great 
gravity. 

"Well  said,  Brother  Haskins.  well  said," 
assented  Elder  Head  with  a  well-concealed 
smile  tugging  at  his  lips,  under  his  white 
beard. 

"Say,  Mr.  Haskins,  I  've  got  to  get  home 
quick,  as  it 's  'most  sundown,  but  I  'm  going 
to  send  Runt  back  with  that  camphor  and 
bear  grease  for  your  back.  I  '11  send  a  piece 
of  mother's  old  flannel  petticoat  to  rub  it 
on  hot,  and  Runt  will  help  you  as  you  ain't 
married,"  Nancy  said  as  she  took  her  de 
parture  with  an  intention  for  action  written 
all  over  her  small  person. 

"I  suspect  that  poor  Tom  Lincoln  is  in 
for  a  bodily  regeneration,"  remarked  Elder 

50 


THE  MATRIX 

Head  as  Brother  Haskins  took  a  rush-bot 
tomed  chair  beside  his  guest  and  tilted  him 
self  against  the  log  wall  for  the  recuperation 
of  his  powers  after  his  decorative  efforts. 

"That  Xancy  Hanks  is  one  of  these  here 
pretty  pink  garden  roses  with  a  two-horse 
power  buzz-saw  for  a  center,"  remarked  Mr. 
Haskins,  as  he  rubbed  his  back  with  one 
hand  and  looked  after  the  little  blue  home 
spun  figure  disappearing  down  the  road  to 
wards  the  Hanks  home,  which  had  grown 
from  the  one-room  log  cabin  into  which 
Mother  Hanks  had  arrived  from  the  Wilder 
ness,  to  a  pretentious  mass  of  log  rooms  all 
covered  by  one  low  clapboard  roof  under 
whose  eaves  doves  were  nesting  in  the  trum 
pet  vines  and  wood-creeper.  "She  have  got 
this  whole  town  roped  and  thrown  where  she 
can  set  on  it,  Xancy  has." 

"Xancy  uses  her  heart-strings  for  ropes, 
Brother  Haskins ;  that 's  why  they  hold. 
Heart  strings  bind  a  friend  like  an  iron 

51 


THE  MATRIX 

band,"  the  elder  mused  as  his  eyes  also  fol 
lowed  the  retreating  blue  figure,  which  was 
disappearing  in  a  cloud  of  dust  raised  by  the 
fleet  bare  feet  that  bore  Nancy  rapidly  on 
her  mission. 

"True,"  answered  Brother  Haskins,  and 
reached  for  his  tobacco  twist. 

The  sun  was  just  sinking  behind  the  tree- 
tops  as  Nancy  darted  past  the  house  and 
over  to  the  Hanks  carpenter  shop,  which 
stood  in  a  clump  of  tall  oaks  beside  the  creek 
across  the  clearing.  On  her  way  she  passed 
her  brother,  broad  Jo  Hanks,  going  in  from 
his  work  with  his  leather  apron  still  strapped 
to  his  waist.  He  made  a  grab  for  the  flee 
ing  small  girl,  caught  her,  swung  her  above 
his  head,  kissed  her,  spanked  her  and  re 
leased  her. 

"Oh,  Jo,  can  I  get  Tom  now?"  she  de 
manded  rather  than  requested. 

"Tom 's  finishin'  off  a  piggin  for  Mrs. 
Hendricks  and  you  'd  better  let  him  be,  for 

52 


THE  MATRIX 

the  old  lady  gets  het  up  if  she  's  crossed." 
"I  '11  take  it  home  to  her  if  it 's  finished 
late,  and  she  won't  say  nothing  but  give  me 
a  tea  cake  outen  the  box  if  I  catch  her  round 
the  waist  from  behind  'fore  she  knows  I  'm 
there  and  skeer  her."  Nancy  planned  with 
the  assurance  of  long  experience  with  her 
peppery  neighbor. 

"Say,  Nancy,  don't  you  ever  try  to  sneak 
up  on  the  devil  that  way,  on  account  of  his 
forked  tail,"  laughed  big  Jo,  carefully  edg 
ing  one  of  his  huge  bare  feet  over  one  of 
Nancy's  small  toes  which  was  adorned  with 
a  dusty  pink  rag,  and  for  his  pains  failed 
to  receive  the  alarmed  wiggle  for  which  he 
was  working.  Nancy  Hanks  was  filled  with 
a  certainty  that  her  small  world  intended 
her  no  hurt,  and  could  not  be  frightened 
with  any  threat. 

"What  do  you  want  with  Tom  now?" 
he  asked,  as  he  ruffled  her  bronze 
hair. 

53 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  want  to  fix  him  up  pretty  before  sing 
ing  school  tonight.  It  won't  be  more  than 
two  hours,  and  please  let  me  have  him  now, 
Jo,"  pleaded  Nancy. 

"If  you  expect  to  make  Tom  pretty  in  any 
two  hours,  sissy,  get  to  doin'  it,"  laughed 
Jo,  as  he  went  on  his  way  and  Nancy  flew 
on  hers. 

The  last  rays  of  the  departing  sun  were 
falling  across  Tom  Lincoln  as  Nancy  en 
tered  the  shop,  and  he  lifted  his  head  from 
the  drawing  knife  with  which  he  was  mak 
ing  pink  cedar  shavings  curl  off  the  rounded 
sides  of  the  piggin,  to  smile  at  her  with  a 
gravity  that  made  the  smile  seem  a  very 
personal  gift.  In  the  years  that  had  passed 
since  wee  Nancy  had  been  lowered  into  his 
arms  and  life,  Tom  had  grown  from  a  loose- 
jointed  awkward  boy  into  a  very  tall,  strong 
youth,  still  awkward  but  powerful  as  any 
man.  His  hands  and  feet  were  enormous 
and  his  chest  was  arched  like  a  bellows.  His 

54 


THE  MATRIX 

head  was  broad-browed  and  fine,  and  was 
poised  with  an  uncouth  grace  on  a  long 
neck  from  which  his  sweaty  brown  hickory 
shirt  fell  back  half  way  down  his  hairy 
breast.  His  leathern  apron  was  girded 
about  his  slender,  lithe  waist  and  his  serious 
face  was  smudged  with  dirt  and  sweat. 
His  thick  black  hair  rose  in  a  shock  that  de 
fied  the  ministrations  lavished  on  it  by  Xancy 
since  the  time  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  brown 
bear.  His  eyes  lost  their  smile  and  re 
garded  Xancy  seriously  as  he  began  to  run 
his  huge  skilled  hand  over  the  surface  he 
was  polishing. 

"What  you  want,  honey  bird?  I  'm 
busy,"  he  said. 

"Joe  says  you  can  stop  work  and  come 
right  with  me,  Tom,"  Xancy  both  cajoled 
and  commanded. 

"Jo  Hanks  ain't  makin'  this  piggin,  and 
I  gave  my  own  promise  to  Mrs.  Hendricks. 
A  promise  is  a  promise.  What  do  you  want 

55 


THE  MATRIX 

of  me  anyway?  Can't  you  let  me  be, 
Nancy?"  Tom  began  with  defiance  and 
ended  with  a  faltering  plea  to  continue  his 
business  in  hand. 

"This  is  singing  school  night  and  I  want 
to — that  is  you  oughter  fix  up,  Tom." 
Nancy  had  begun  her  answer  with  direct 
enthusiasm  for  her  task,  but  had  paused 
midway  to  inject  what  she  considered  the 
necessary  amount  of  cajoling. 

"Oh,  shoo,  I  can  do  that  in  ten  minutes 
after  I  eat  my  supper,"  Tom  answered,  as 
he  began  once  more  to  make  the  pink  curls 
fall  to  the  floor. 

"No,  you  can't,  Tom,"  Nancy  declared. 
"You  are  just  awful  and — and  I  'm  going 
to  fix  you  up  myself.  I  just  love  that  Miss 
Sallie  Bush,  and  I  want  you  clean  and  nice 
to  sing  with  her.  Please,  Tom." 

Did  not  the  love  in  Nancy's  child  heart 
for  Sallie  Bush  but  justly  bear  interest  in 
the  older  girl's  faithful  cherishing  of  the 

56 


THE  MATRIX 

Xational  Treasure  she  was  to  leave  in  her 
hands  years  later  ? 

"I  'm  no  baby.  I  guess  I  can  wash  and 
comb  myself,"  Tom  growled  while  his  big 
ears  grew  firey  red  at  the  bare  mention  of 
the  enchanting  Sallie. 

Now  Nancy  Hanks  had  two  tried  and 
proven  ways  to  manage  Thomas  Lincoln, 
and  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  preferred  the 
exciting,  commanding  one  by  which  she 
fairly  stormed  him  into  doing  her  will:  but 
time  and  daylight  were  scarce  on  this  oc 
casion,  and  she  used  the  other  method,  which 
she  knew  to  be  more  swift  and  sure. 

"I  just  ask  you  please,  please,  Tom,  and 
you  don't  want  me  to  cry,  do  you?"  The 
little  tremor  that  Nancy,  aged  nine  and  six 
months,  threw  into  her  voice,  was  worthy 
of  twenty  years'  practice.  "Gus  Hardin 
greases  his  boots  until  they  shine  for  sing 
ing  school  and  Jo  puts  on  a  white  shirt,  and 
Dave  Hall's  mother  has  made  him  a  red  silk 

57 


THE  MATRIX 

sash  to  put  around  his  neck,  that  he  calls  a 
tie.  I  don't  want  to  be  ashamed  of  you, 
Tom." 

"Oh,  blame  it,  Nancy,  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do?"  Tom  growled  as  he  threw  down 
his  knife  and  surrendered. 

"Go  straight  home,  Tom,  and  I  '11  come 
down  to  your  pump  with  the  things  to  fix 
you,"  Nancy  commanded,  with  joy  at  her 
quick  triumph  dancing  up  into  her  eyes. 
"Oh,  you  '11  be  sure  enough  beautiful,"  and 
with  which  promise,  indicating  the  strength 
of  her  imagination,  Nancy  departed  as  Tom 
began  to  take  off  his  apron,  preparatory  to 
closing  up  shop. 

The  scene  that  followed  at  the  pump  in  the 
backyard  of  the  Lincoln  home  is  indicative 
of  how  life  was  to  use  Thomas  Lincoln,  pre 
paring  a  ceremony  of  honors  for  him  which 
he  was  not  to  reap. 

Who  shall  say  what  burned  high  in  his 
strong  young  heart  as  he  walked  down  the 

58 


THE  MATRIX 

dusty  road,  to  be  adorned  for  the  meeting 
with  the  beautiful  one  in  the  mule-trans 
ported  dimity,  who  had  made  his  voice  fal 
ter  in  its  devotions.  Nancy's  will  and 
Nancy's  imagination  had  always  impressed 
themselves  upon  his  own  will  and  his  own 
imagination,  and  if  Nancy  had  decided  that 
he  was  to  be  beautiful  for  the  pleasing  of  the 
beautiful  Sallie,  he  never  doubted  that  he 
would  meet  the  emergency.  His  heart  sang 
high. 

He  found  Nancy  waiting  for  him  at  the 
tryst  with  her  instruments  of  magic  all  at 
hand,  spread  out  on  a  bench  beside  her. 
They  were:  a  pair  of  huge  scissors,  a  large 
gourd  of  soft  lye  soap,  a  rough  towel,  Jo 
Hanks'  slender  bladed  pocket  knife  and  a 
small  deer  horn  full  of  the  precious  bear 
grease,  beside  which  lay  a  comb  and  a 
roll  of  flannel  for  straightening  and  polish 
ing  the  black  hair.  Also  her  father's 
razor  was  near  at  hand,  with  a  nice 

59 


THE  MATRIX 

foam  of  lather  rubbed  into  a  wooden  sau 
cer. 

"Shave  first,"  commanded  Nancy,  as  he 
came  to  a  halt  beside  her. 

"Do  I  have  to?" 

"Yes,  you  do.  The  other  boys  don't,  but 
your  face  scratches  awful  and  ain't  pretty," 
was  the  decided  answer. 

The  process  was  laborious  and  Nancy  be 
gan  to  watch  the  lengthening  shadows  in 
fear  of  not  enough  daylight  for  her  under 
takings.  They  did  extend  themselves  nearly 
into  the  candle  light ;  for  they  were  many. 

The  shaving  accomplished,  Nancy  at 
tacked  the  sunbrowned  face  and  excavated 
deep  into  the  flaming  ears  with  the  rough 
towel.  She  clipped  the  black  shock  of  hair, 
greased  it  lavishly  and  finally  polished  it 
with  the  flannel  until  it  shone  like  old  ma 
hogany.  She  scoured  the  large  hands  and 
arms,  and  even  pared  and  dug  around  the 
rough  nails,  while  Tom  sat  fairly  patient 

60 


THE  MATRIX 

and  with  only  slight  remonstrances  in  the 
shapes  of  groans  and  petitions. 

"Just  being  clean  ain't  a  pain,  Tom," 
Xancy  soothed  as  she  dug  with  the  sharp 
blade  under  a  thumb  nail  that  was  dark  with 
native  soil. 

"It 's  all  foolishness,"  Tom  answered  as 
the  deft  little  fingers  began  an  assault  on  his 
other  huge  paw. 

"When  you  put  on  what  I  've  got  in  the 
wood  shed,  while  I  grease  up  your  boots 
like  Gus',  you  '11  be  just  wonderful,  Tom," 
Xancy  persuaded  as  she  finished  wielding 
her  knife  and  gave  a  last  polish  to  the  ma 
hogany  head. 

"Oh,  Lordy,  what  you  going  to  make  me 
do  now?"  groaned  the  martyr  to  the  ro 
mance  in  young  Xancy's  breast. 

"It 's  a  white  shirt  mother  let  me  spin 
and  weave  for  you,  Tom,  all  last  winter.  I 
made  it  by  Jo  and  it  is  a  present  for  you.  I 
was  going  to  bleach  it  two  more  times  be- 

61 


THE  MATRIX 

fore  you  saw  it,  but  you  can  wear  it  tonight, 
and  I  '11  put  it  out  in  the  dew  and  sun  again 
after  I  wash  it,"  answered  Nancy  as  her  eyes 
danced  with  the  joy  of  bestowing  the  gift, 
which  was  the  work  of  art  that  had  occupied 
her  entire  winter's  spare  moments,  and  upon 
which  she  had  obtained  her  education  at  the 
wheel  of  pioneer  feminine  power. 

"Shoo,  Nancy,  I  ain't  fitten  to  wear  your 
white  shirt.  Better  give  it  to  Uncle  Jo." 
Tom's  face  was  illumined  with  both  em 
barrassment  and  great  gratitude. 

"I  made  it  for  you,  Tom,  'cause  I  'm  all 
the  mother  you  Ve  got  to  weave  you  white 
shirts,  and  I  want  you  to  wear  it  to  please 
Miss  Sallie  at  singing.  You  must,  Tom." 
Small  Nancy  pleaded  for  the  white  shirt, 
pleasure  for  herself,  and  the  radiant  Sallie 
in  all  sincerity. 

"All  right,  Nancy,  I  '11  do  it  and  thank 
you  too,"  Thomas  graciously  consented. 
"Is  it  in  the  wood  house,  you  say?" 

62 


THE  MATRIX 

"Yes,  wrapped  in  a  clean  towel,  and  put 
it  right  on  while  I  get  the  boots  greased  as 
good  as  GUS',"  Nancy  commanded,  as  she 
took  up  one  of  the  huge  rawhide  boxes  that 
Thomas  wore  upon  his  wide  feet  on  strictly 
gala  occasions,  and  began  the  humble  office 
of  greasing  them  with  the  fat  of  the  mur 
dered  bear. 

"My  feet  don't  show  when  I  sing.  Shoes 
kinder  crowd  me,"  Tom  pleaded. 

"It  don't  look  right  to  be  dressed  up  at 
one  end  and  not  the  other,"  Nancy  decided 
sternly,  as  she  went  on  with  her  polishing. 
"Go  on,  Tom." 

And  Tom  went. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  her  management  of  Tom,  Nancy 
Hanks  evinced  the  force  of  a  strong  per 
sonality.  Thomas  Lincoln  yielded  to  few 
people,  for  he  had  a  force  of  his  own,  and 
showed  it  when  occasion  demanded.  He 
cared  little  and  consorted  less  with  the  boys 
of  his  own  age;  he  liked  best  to  sit  and  lis 
ten,  silently,  and  intently,  to  the  talk  of  the 
older  men,  though  his  expert  knowledge  on 
the  food  and  fur  questions  often  made  him 
one  of  the  council,  and  forced  upon  him  a 
voice  therein.  He  was  accustomed  to  speak 
out  whatever  he  thought,  when  forced  to 
speak,  and  his  opinion  and  decisions  were 
often  so  shrewd  and  well  balanced  that  the 
men  listened  to  him  and  did  him  the  honor 

64 


THE  MATRIX 

to  argue  with  him  heatedly,  when  he  op 
posed  their  decisions.  Under  his  slow- 
speaking,  awkward  exterior  there  were 
banked  fires  that  when  stirred  emitted 
tongues  of  scathing  flame.  He  was  re 
spected  far  beyond  his  years  and  disliked  far 
beyond  his  deserts,  which  made  him  a  con 
spicuous  personality.  What  Tom  Lincoln 
did  and  said  was  always  the  news  of  the  day. 
And  at  all  times  his  huge,  ungainly  appear 
ance  was  the  target  of  good-natured  fun. 

"Tom  is  so  ugly  that  you  shet  your  eyes 
before  your  nose  or  ears  get  wind  of  him," 
his  brother  Mordecai  was  in  the  habit  of 
remarking  with  no  particular  care  that  Tom 
should  not  hear  him. 

And  it  so  happened  that  the  critical  Mor 
decai  was  on  hand  to  watch  Tom's  appear 
ance  from  the  wood  house  in  the  full  glory 
of  the  results  of  all  young  Xancy's  efforts  on 
him,  in  the  interest  of  the  adored  Miss  Sallie 
Bush,  which  was  unfortunate  because  Nancy 

65 


THE  MATRIX 

really  deserved  at  least  a  few  moments  of 
unalloyed  delight  over  her  handiwork. 

There  he  stood  before  her  with  his  sleek 
hair  and  red  and  polished  face  of  sheepish 
expression  undergirded  by  the  collar  of  the 
first  white  shirt  he  had  ever  had  upon  his 
broad  back.  It  was  tucked  trimly  into  the 
butternut  homespun  breeches  which  were  in 
turn  tucked  into  the  resplendent  greased 
boots,  and  the  total  was  such  that  Xancy 
clasped  her  small  hands,  begrimed  with 
their  ministrations,  to  her  young  bosom 
swelling  with  pride,  and  was  about  to  give 
vent  to  a  feminine  cry  of  rapture  over  her 
ugly  duckling,  when  a  huge  roar  went  up 
from  the  throat  of  Mordecai  as  he  lounged 
to  the  back  door  of  the  house. 

"Well,  will  you  look  at  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory  not  arrayed  like  one  of  Tom,"  he 
laughed,  with  ridicule  in  every  tone  of  his 
voice.  "Is  it  the  King  of  England  or  jest 
the  President  of  the  States?" 

66 


THE  MATRIX 

At  the  guffaw  Susan  appeared  at  the  door 
and  added  a  treble  to  Mordecai's  bass  de 
rision. 

In  the  twinkling  of  his  elder  brother's 
keen  eye,  Thomas'  glory  fell  from  him  and 
he  was  covered  with  a  furious  awkwardness 
which  was  about  to  express  itself  in  no  un 
certain  terms  of  rage,  when  Nancy's  anger 
beat  him  to  the  goal. 

"If  Tom  or  anybody  was  as  ugly  as  your 
insides,  Mordecai  Lincoln,  it  would  kill  'em 
dead."  The  young  idealist,  capable  of  la 
boring  to  materialize  a  dream  of  splendor, 
and  putting  herself  under  its  glamour  when 
obtained,  fairly  hurled  at  the  big,  slouch 
ing,  figure  in  the  doorway.  "You  're  an 
old  dirty  dog  and  don't  ever  speak  to  me 
again!" 

"No,  nobody  must  laugh  at  Nancy's 
pretty  boy,"  Susan  rubbed  in  on  the  raw. 

"Oh — oho—  "  wailed  the  young  artist,  put 
ting  her  head  down  onto  the  little  arm,  all 

67 


THE  MATRIX 

tired  out,  and  smudged  with  her  labor  of 
love  and  fairly  trembling  with  rage. 

Nancy  Hanks  being  abused  was  a  clarion 
call  to  Thomas  Lincoln. 

With  a  deep  rage  on  his  serious  face  and 
his  large  black  eyes  in  a  flame,  he  picked  up 
a  piece  of  stove  wood  that  lay  at  his  feet 
and  hurled  it  straight  and  murderously  at 
his  brother's  head.  And  if  there  had  not 
been  the  interposition  of  a  faithful  little 
black  shoulder  and  arm,  Thomas  Lincoln 
would  have  been  a  fratricide  and  probably 
hanged  high  on  a  tree,  so  altering  the  course 
of  American  History. 

But  little  Runt,  the  woodsman,  was  quick 
on  the  trigger  as  he  sprang  between  the  em 
battled  brothers. 

"Are  you  dead,  Runt?"  wailed  Nancy  as 
she  flew  to  the  huddled  black  body,  which 
fell  at  the  feet  of  Mordecai  and  Susan,  who 
both  stood  aghast  at  what  might  have  hap 
pened,  rather  than  what  had  happened. 

68 


THE  MATRIX 

"Yassum,  but  Mars  Tom  did  n't  kill  Mars 
Mort,"  wailed  the  tortured  little  captive 
crow  with  his  arm  hanging  limp  and  his 
shoulder  dragging.  Then  he  fainted  away 
and  failed  to  hear  the  emancipation  procla 
mation  issued  over  his  unconscious  body. 

Slowly,  like  one  in  a  dream,  Thomas  Lin 
coln  walked  across  and  stood  over  Xancy 
Hanks  as  she  crouched  beside  the  stricken 
negro,  and  looking  his  brother  full  in  the 
face,  said : 

"Runt  saved  your  life  and  me  from  mur 
der,  and  I  name  him  a  free  boy  this  day." 

The  declaration  hit  Mordecai  Lincoln  full 
in  his  brain  like  a  physical  thud  and  he  stag 
gered. 

"Don't  say  that,  Tom,"  he  almost  en 
treated,  as  his  hand  went  up  as  if  to  pro 
tect  himself  from  a  further  blow.  "Don't 
let  anybody  hear  you  say  that,  Tom.  You 
can't  free  niggers  in  Kentucky." 

"Live  or  die  Runt  is  free,"  Tom  answered 

69 


THE  MATRIX 

calmly  and  his  eyes  were  so  full  of  a  strange 
fire  that  Nancy  looked  up  at  him  in  awe 
with  her  small  hand  pressed  over  her  hot 
little  heart  under  her  home-spun  apron. 
Mardecai  stood  silent  in  a  like  awe  while 
Susan  slunk  away  out  the  front  door  and 
down  the  road,  bent  on  getting  out  of  the 
situation  and  relating  it  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible  to  Tom's  discredit. 

Thus  Thomas  Lincoln  became,  probably, 
the  first  active  Kentucky  abolitionist,  an 
honor  for  which  he  was  to  pay  a  bitter  price ; 
and  Nancy  Hanks  looked  up  at  his  assump 
tion  of  that  fate,  for  which  she  too  was  to 
pay  a  price,  with  glowing  eyes. 

"Shoo,  Tom,  pick  him  up  and  carry  him 
to  his  mammy's  cabin  and  I  '11  have  the  half- 
breed  Injun  doctor  fix  him  when  he  comes 
to  look  over  the  sick  heifer  tonight,"  Mor- 
decai  commanded  as  he  came  to  himself. 

"I  wisht  that  chunk  of  wood  had  knocked 
your  head  clean  off  instead  of  Runt,  and  I 
70 


hope  you  die  anyway,"  Nancy  raged  at  Mor- 
decai  as  she  departed  with  Tom,  who  car 
ried  the  moaning  little  negro  tenderly,  while 
Nancy  supported  his  bare  black  feet  against 
her  sorrowing  little  white  bosom. 

"Don't  you  grieve,  Mars  Tom,  Runt  will 
be  a-stealin'  jam  by  sun  up  tomorrow,"  old 
Jude,  the  mother  comforted,  as  Tom  laid 
the  Runt  on  her  feather  bed  under  its  gay 
patched  quilt. 

"Come  home  with  me,  Tom,"  Nancy  com 
manded  as  they  turned  away  from  the  negro 
cabin  door.  "I  can't  stand  for  Mordecai  to 
mad  you  any  more." 

"Lem  'me  go  to  the  woods,  Nancy,"  an 
swered  Thomas  with  a  dull  ache  in  his  voice 
and  eyes. 

"But  I  wrant  you  to  come  with  me  to  keep 
me  from  crying,"  Nancy  wooed  with  the 
threatened  tears  in  her  big  purple  eyes, 
which  glinted  in  the  dusk  that  had  come 
down  on  the  hot  earth  while  it  had  been  the 
71 


THE  MATRIX 

scene  of  the  equally  hot  anger.  "And  I 
want  my  mother  to  see  how  good  you  look." 
A  sob  almost  choked  the  last  demand. 

"All  right,  honey  bird,"  Tom  answered 
promptly,  covering  his  wound,  which  he 
longed  to  go  away  and  lick,  to  soothe  his 
champion. 

The  mother  of  Nancy  Hanks  was  a  very 
wise  and  winsome  woman,  who  had  been 
reared  on  broad  Virginia  acres  and  fostered 
in  all  gentleness,  and  she  knew  how  to  use 
her  charm  to  straighten  out  the  many  tan 
gles  of  pioneer  existence  to  which  she  was 
unaccustomed,  but  which  she  bore  with  cour 
age  for  love  of  big  Joseph  Hanks. 

Her  enthusiastic  admiration  of  Thomas  in 
party  array  went  far  towards  toning  down 
the  red  of  his  big  clean  ears,  bring  up  his 
hanging  head  and  restoring  the  curl  and  dim 
ples  to  Nancy's  red  mouth. 

"You  '11  have  to  do  a  power  of  titivating 
yourself,  Nancy,  if  you  are  expecting  to  go 
72 


THE  MATRIX 

to  the  singing  with  Thomas  and  me,"  she 
said  after  she  had  listened  to  the  whole  story 
and  smoothed  the  ragged  surfaces  of 
Nancy's  and  Thomas'  nervous  system. 
"I  've  got  on  my  lace  collar  and  I  've  made 
me  fresh  water  waves." 

The  sweet  face  under  the  little  fluffy  white 
wave-curls  smiled  tenderly  as  she  called  the 
attention  of  the  two  hurt  children  to  her  own 
adornment  for  their  distraction.  Her 
dainty,  high-bred  beauty  must  have  struck 
a  very  deep  note  in  the  shy  awkward  boy,  for 
he  laid  a  long  arm  around  her  slender  shoul 
ders  and  hugged  her  close  against  the  new 
white  shirt.  Then  he  looked  at  her  as  if  in 
surprise,  and  there  was  a  note  of  concern  in 
his  big  rich  voice  as  he  spoke. 

"Aunt  Nancy,  you  ain't  got  any  more  heft 
on  you  than  a  willow  switch,"  he  said  as  he 
held  her  from  him  and  looked  at  her. 
"Don't  your  victuals  meat  you  up  none?" 

"Hush,  Tom,"  answered  Mother  Hanks 
73 


THE  MATRIX 

as  she  gave  a  quick  love  glance  at  big  Joseph 
coming  across  the  front  yard  to  the  porch. 
"I  'm  all  right  and  I  don't  want  Joseph 
worried." 

Delicately  nurtured  Nancy  Shipley,  who 
had  followed  her  husband  into  the  Wilder 
ness,  was  about  to  pay  the  price  of  her  life 
for  her  adventure,  which  price  many  other 
splendid  Virginia  women  paid,  for  the  build 
ing  of  Kentucky.  She  knew  it  but  hid  the 
fact  in  all  tenderness.  As  her  husband 
came  into  the  room  she  went  into  his  arms 
and  clung  to  him  in  such  a  way  as  to  get  her 
lips  near  his  ear. 

"Make  a  compliment  to  Tom  about  his 
looks,"  she  whispered. 

"Why,  Tom  Lincoln,  you  look  as  big  and 
upstanding  as  your  grandfather,  old  Mister 
Abraham  Lincoln,"  Uncle  Jo  declared  with 
a  genuine  heartiness  in  his  face  and  voice, 
which  made  his  wife  give  him  an  extra  pres 
sure  of  her  tender  arms  as  she  drew  away 

74 


THE  MATRIX 

from  him.  The  praise  from  his  beloved 
Uncle  Jo  immediately  put  poor  Tom's  pride 
back  upon  its  pedestal,  though  he  smiled  in 
embarrassment  and  turned  to  Nancy,  whose 
eyes  were  dancing  with  delight  at  her 
father's  pronouncement. 

"Want  me  to  comb  out  your  pig  tails  and 
plate  'em,  Nancy?"  he  offered  heroically,  for 
the  combing  and  plating  of  Nancy's  long 
braids  was  a  task  dreaded  by  the  whole  fam 
ily  connection  because  of  the  soft  fluff  of  the 
red-brown  locks  which  made  for  agonizing 
tangles. 

"Yes,  comb  her,  Tom,  while  I  fix  up 
Joseph,"  answered  Mother  Hanks  busily. 
"Elder  Head  is  here,  Joseph,  and  we  are 
going  to  have  prayer  meeting  and  a  love 
feast  after  the  singing." 

"Say,  Tom,  men  are  just  doll  babies  for 
women  folks  to  dress  up,"  was  all  the  pro 
test  big  Joseph  made,  as  he  followed  Mother 
Hanks  into  his  bedroom. 

75 


The  reciprocal  grooming  which  Thomas 
bestowed  on  Nancy  was  an  easier  task  than 
usual,  for  Nancy  realized  that  time  was  fly 
ing,  and  that  she  must  stand  with  a  certain 
amount  of  tranquillity,  while  the  big  hands 
performed  the  painful  ceremony  of  unplat- 
ing,  untangling  and  replating.  She  real 
ized  that  haste  must  be  made  if  she  was  to 
be  fittingly  adorned  in  the  little  homespun 
frock,  which  had  been  dyed  with  polk  juice, 
the  pink  of  an  autumn  sunset  and  which 
had  in  its  neck  and  sleeves  a  ruffle  of  fine 
white  Virginia  linen,  in  time  to  be  of  the 
party  at  the  singing. 

As  it  was,  she  and  Tom  were  delayed  by 
a  search  for  one  of  the  small  rawhide  shoes, 
that  she  was  forced  to  ease  over  the  pink 
bandaged  toe,  and  which  was  at  last  found 
in  the  shop  where  Tom  had  been  pegging  a 
gap  in  its  flat  sole  the  day  before. 

"Everybody  's  gone  in  the  church,  Tom, 
but  I  know  none  of  the  other  boys  have  got 

76 


THE  MATRIX 

the  place  by  Miss  Sallie  away  from  you," 
Nancy  gasped  as  she  trotted  three  steps  to 
Tom's  long  one  down  the  road  beside  him, 
her  hand  in  his. 

"Shoo,"  answered  Thomas  with  an  indif 
ference  he  was  far  from  feeling,  for  the  hot 
blood  of  stirring  adolescent  love  was  burning 
in  his  cheeks — and  also  in  his  sensitive  ears. 

Of  all  the  desires  that  had  moved  the  heart 
of  Thomas  Lincoln  up  to  that  moment  the 
strongest  was  for  the  seat  beside  the  mule- 
imported  sprigged  muslin  and  the  right  to 
hold  the  corner  of  the  wearer's  square  old 
singing  book.  And  this  was  to  be  the  night 
on  which  he  was  to  put  his  fate  to  the  touch. 
He  knew  that  the  whole  settlement  had  been 
nudging  its  elbows  and  smiling  at  the  fact 
that  Tom  Lincoln  was  "noticing"  Sallie 
Bush,  and  Nancy  had  succeeded  in  convinc 
ing  him  that  his  adornment  had  made  sure 
of  the  conquest. 

Thus  it  was  with  the  confidence  of  a  con- 
77 


THE  MATRIX 

queror,  Thomas  Lincoln  entered  the  church 
with  Nancy  beside  him,  though  she  almost 
immediately  turned  away  from  him  and 
made  her  way  to  a  bench  beside  her  mother, 
directly  opposite  the  left  corner  of  the  log 
room  in  which  the  singers  usually  occupied 
all  the  seats. 

And  then  it  happened. 

Nancy  was  just  preparing  to  seat  herself 
beside  her  mother,  turning  first  to  observe 
the  tall  figure  of  the  swan,  who  had  been  her 
ugly  duckling,  stride  up  the  aisle  and  take 
the  place  coveted  by  every  boy  in  the  settle 
ment,  which  she  was  sure  would  be  reserved 
for  him,  when  she  stood  stock  still  with  dis 
may. 

Things  had  gone  wrong. 

The  entire  population  of  the  settlement 
was  seated,  ready  for  the  elder  to  rise  and 
line  out  the  first  hymn,  in  which  they  were 
to  be  led  by  the  choir,  a  dozen  young  people 
seated  in  the  left  "Amen  corner,"  and  their 
78 


THE  MATRIX 

eyes  were  fixed  upon  that  spot  to  witness 
the  fact  that  when  Thomas  Lincoln,  in  all 
his  glory,  arrived  to  culminate  his  "notic 
ing"  of  Sallie  Bush,  his  divinity  failed  to 
sweep  aside  her  skirts  of  mule-imported  mus 
lin  and  offer  him  the  desired  corner  of  her 
book,  but  gave  a  little  hitch  of  one  shoulder 
and  a  fluff  of  the  skirts,  which  clearly  indi 
cated  that  if  Thomas  was  to  sit  in  the  singers' 
corner  it  would  have  to  be  alone  on  a  long 
front  bench.  And  in  the  midst  of  a  titter 
ing  silence,  Thomas  subsided  upon  the  cor 
ner  of  the  empty  seat,  alone,  facing  an  au 
dience  before  which  in  a  second  he  would 
have  to  rise  and  sing. 

But  the  world  was  never  to  reckon 
Thomas  Lincoln  without  adding  Nancy 
Hanks  to  his  sum  total.  When  Thomas 
faced  his  world  in  abashment,  Lincoln  Set 
tlement's  most  prominent  citizen,  young 
Nancy  Hanks,  stood  beside  him,  singing 
away  for  dear  life  in  a  full  bird  voice  from 

79 


THE  MATRIX 

her  mother's  huge  hymn  book,  the  corner 
of  which  Thomas  held.  And  the  withering 
glance  bestowed  upon  the  faithless  friend 
from  the  big  violet  eyes  held  all  the  tragedy 
of  a  betrayed  hero-worshipper. 

Great  as  was  the  humiliation  of  this  public 
flaunting  to  Thomas  Lincoln,  it  was  when 
he  heard  the  cause  that  the  iron  entered  his 
soul,  which  hardened  him  to  an  opinion  and 
a  purpose  with  which  he  lived  and  died.  It 
was  not  until  the  singing,  in  which  his  rich 
deep  voice  blended  with  Nancy's  bird-like 
flute  to  the  shaming  of  the  rest  of  the  sing 
ers,  including  the  small  but  tuneful  twitter 
that  rose  from  beneath  the  tucker  of  Miss 
Sallie's  sprigged  dimity,  was  over,  the  scrip 
tures  read,  and  the  prayers  offered  that 
Thomas  learned  the  cause  of  his  humiliation. 

According  to  his  custom  of  monthly  meet 
ings  in  the  Settlement,  Elder  Head  con 
cluded  his  services  with  what  Methodism 
called  at  that  date  and  down  the  future,  a 

80 


THE  MATRIX 

Love  Feast.  A  ceremony  at  which  brother 
and  sister  were  expected  to  speak  up  and 
accuse  and  forgive  brother  and  sister.  Nat 
urally  the  service  was  at  all  times  attended 
with  no  small  excitement,  but  upon  this  oc 
casion  there  was  plainly  a  weighty  matter  to 
be  threshed  out.  And  though  he  was  ig 
norant  of  it,  upon  the  shoulders  of  Thomas 
Lincoln  the  flail  of  public  opinion  was  to 
fall. 

"And  now,  brothers  and  sisters,  I  invite 
you  to  speak  what  is  in  your  heart  one  for 
another,  in  all  neighborly  feeling  among  fol 
lowers  of  our  Lord."  Brother  Head  gave 
the  invitation  with  anxiety  in  his  gentle 
face. 

Immediately  Susan  Lincoln  rose  from  be 
side  her  husband,  though  his  hand  had  been 
laid  out  to  restrain  her. 

"I  wish  the  reproof  of  this  congregation 
upon  Thomas  Lincoln  fer  the  rage  what  led 
him  to  free  a  nigger,"  the  rough  and  vindic- 

81 


THE  MATRIX 

tive  woman  drawled  out  with  more  than 
rage,  positive  fury,  flaming  in  her  own  red 
face.  A  murmur  of  consternation  came 
from  the  majority  of  the  settlers,  who  thus 
for  the  first  time  were  hearing  that  the  dread 
and  awful  act,  abolition,  had  been  committed 
in  their  community.  However,  the  know 
ing  and  contemptuous  smile  on  the  face  of 
Sallie  Bush,  the  rest  of  the  singers  and  a 
few  others  of  the  congregation  showed  that 
Susan  had  been  about  her  malicious  busi 
ness  in  the  several  hours  that  had  elapsed 
between  the  emancipation  of  the  Runt  and 
the  gathering  of  the  congregation. 

"Free  a  nigger!  Poor  Tom!"  Sallie 
whispered  with  a  contemptuous  giggle  to 
Gus  Harding,  who  had  slipped  into  the  cov 
eted  place  beside  her,  when  he  had  beheld 
her  flouting  of  Tom.  Mr.  Bush  was  the 
largest  slave  holder  in  the  settlement  and 
he  sat  glaring  at  Tom  from  half  way  back 
in  the  church. 

82 


THE  MATRIX 

"That  white  shirt  hit  him  loony,"  an 
swered  Gus  with  a  suppressed  guffaw  that 
died  away  as  the  elder  turned  and  looked 
past  Thomas,  the  abolitionist,  to  Mordecai, 
the  head  of  the  family,  for  an  answer  to  the 
charge  against  this  minor  member. 

"Jest  git  after  Tom  for  his  temper,  Elder! 
That  ain't  nothing  to  the  nigger  freeing 
business,"  Mordecai  answered  with  easy  un 
concern. 

He  should  have  known  Thomas  Lincoln 
better. 

Tom  rose  to  his  feet  in  all  his  unaccus 
tomed  finery  and  faced  the  keen  eyes  fixed 
on  him,  which  were  unfriendly  and  fierce  be 
cause  of  his  materialization  of  a  dread, 
which  was  to  mature  in  the  future  to  take 
from  them  property  honestly  acquired,  but 
which  they  all  held  with  uneasy  consciences. 

Then  Thomas  Lincoln  made  his  crude 
speech,  which  was  to  become  coherent  years 
later  at  Gettysburg. 

83 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  beg  Mort's  pardon  for  the  temper, 
Elder,  but  Runt  is  free  and  is  going  ter  stay 
that  way.  I  hold  it  is  a  sin  to  slave  any 
human  critter."  With  which  proclamation 
Tom  brought  down  upon  himself  a  storm  of 
protest.  And  as  he  stood  before  them  all, 
in  his  hand  had  rested  the  hand  of  small 
Nancy  Hanks,  while  around  the  two  raged 
a  roaring  sea  of  argument,  accusation,  refu 
tation,  protest  and  vilification. 

But  Elder  Jesse  Head  had  survived  many 
serious  "love  feasts,"  in  which  property 
rights,  connubial  rights  and  the  subject  of 
infant  damnation  had  been  threshed  out,  and 
he  knew  when  to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters. 

"Well,  brethren  and  sisters,  we  '11  leave 
this  whole  matter  to  the  Lord  and  commend 
prayerful  consideration  of  it  to  those  mostly 
concerned,"  he  declaimed,  a  formula  tried 
many  times  successfully.  "Let  us  receive 
the  benediction." 

84 


THE  MATRIX 

"AND  NOW  MAY  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD  BE 
WITH  US  AND  GUIDE  US  THIS  DAY  FOR 
THE  SAKE  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.  AMEN !" 

And  the  men  and  women  who  stood  with 
bent  heads  to  receive  that  benediction,  filed 
out  with  dark  glances  of  condemnation  at 
Thomas  Lincoln,  as  he  walked  among  them, 
hand  in  hand  with  Nancy  Hanks. 

Down  the  road  the  boy,  who  had  made 
himself  a  pariah  and  the  child  who  loved  him, 
walked  silently  in  the  starlight.  "Git  to 
bed,  Nancy,"  Tom  commanded  at  the  Hanks 
gate,  as  he  put  her  from  him  when  she  would 
have  clung;  and  he  walked  away  from  her 
across  the  road  and  into  the  sanctuary  of  the 
great  forest. 

An  hour  later  when  big  Joseph  Hanks 
was  about  to  extinguish  the  last  candle  in 
the  log  house,  he  heard  a  sound  of  weeping 
from  the  corner  where  Nancy  slept.  Since 
the  savages  had  almost  stolen  her  from  him, 

85 


THE  MATRIX 

he  always  took  a  last  look  at  the  dark  head 
on  the  pillow  before  going  to  his  rest,  and 
he  set  down  the  candle  and  bent  over  her  as 
he  heard  the  smothered  sobs. 

"What  is  it,  sweetling?"  he  asked  tenderly. 

"Tom!  Oh,  go  git  Tom!  He's  gone 
into  the  woods,"  was  the  wailing  answer. 

"Tom  kin  take  keer  of  himself  in  any 
woods,"  big  Joseph  answered  with  comfort 
ing  assurance. 

"I  want  him  to  stay  in  this  house  always, 
so  nobody  will  dare  to  talk  ugly  to  him.  Go 
git  him,  Daddy." 

"Yes,  we  '11  have  to  take  Tom  now,  Joe," 
Mother  Hanks  said  as  she  came  to  the  bed 
side  and  put  her  thin  cheek  down  against 
Nancy's  hot  little  face.  "He  can't  live  with 
Susan  and  Mort  after  this." 

"Well,  can't  I  adopt  Tom  Lincoln  before 
breakfast  tomorrow  morning  and  go  to  sleep 
now,  Nancy?"  asked  Joseph  with  a  smile  of 
ready  consent  at  the  petition  of  his  two  be- 

86 


THE  MATRIX 

loved  women  for  protection  for  the  young 
abolitionist. 

"Yes,"  faltered  Nancy,  content  for  the 
moment  with  the  promise  of  her  father's 
guardianship  for  her  unfortunate. 

Then  while  darkness  and  sleep  settled 
down  upon  the  Lincoln  Settlement,  out  in 
the  dark  forest  Thomas  Lincoln  lay  with  his 
face  pressed  to  the  bosom  of  the  land  he  was 
helping  to  conquer,  and  he  was  drenching  the 
soil  with  as  bitter  tears  as  had  been  or  ever 
would  be  shed  upon  its  richness.  Part  of 
the  hurt  was  the  loss  of  the  promise  of  bud 
ding  love,  a  glimpse  of  which  he  had  caught 
in  the  eyes  of  the  young  pioneer  girl,  and  the 
agony  of  it  ached  with  the  pulse  of  the  blood 
in  the  veins  of  his  huge,  strong,  man-boy 
body,  but  in  his  soul  there  burned  a  fiercer 
fire,  the  conflagration  that  is  always  raised 
by  injustice.  The  conviction  of  the  inherent 
right  to  human  freedom,  which  had  caught 
fire  at  a  spark  struck  out  by  small  Nancy 

87 


THE  MATRIX 

beside  the  captive  poults,  in  whose  condition 
she  had  seen  a  likeness  to  her  own  savage 
trapping  and  tying,  had  grown  with  his 
growth  until  it  had  become  to  him  an  obli 
gation  for  which  he  must  be  willing  to  suffer. 
The  dramatic  freeing  of  the  Runt  had  been 
but  the  hasty  culmination  of  an  intention 
which  he  had  been  cherishing  and  for  which 
he  had  been  biding  the  time  of  his  own  more 
powerful  and  commanding  manhood.  And 
yet  what  was  to  bring  order  in  the  chaos  of 
his  immature  boy's  heart  and  mind?  All  the 
men  of  power  in  his  small  world  owned  slaves 
and  were  eagerly  buying  more,  for  upon 
their  labor  was  being  rapidly  built  a  great 
Commonwealth.  Who  was  he  to  stand  up 
alone  and  call  them  to  account?  Where 
could  he  get  the  strength  to  withstand  their 
anger,  scorn  and  derision?  Would  he  have 
always  to  face  the  black  looks  that  had  been 
cast  at  him  that  night,  which  was  to  have 
been  the  occasion  of  his  love  triumph? 

88 


THE  MATRIX 

"Sallie  and  everybody  '11  hate  me  now," 
he  sobbed  under  his  breath  as  he  pressed  his 
ugly  face  into  the  dust. 

"Not  me,  Tom,"  came  a  soft  answer  to  his 
wail  out  of  the  leaf-shadowed  darkness,  and 
Xancy  huddled  down  beside  him  with  her 
cheek  pressed  upon  the  bear-greased  hair  on 
the  back  of  his  head.  "I  love  you,  an'  all  the 
rest  of  the  mean  folks  don't  make  any  differ 
ence  at  all.  If  we  want  to  turn  things  aloose 
we  '11  do  it." 

The  results  of  that  pact  were  far  reach 
ing. 


89 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  small  epidemic  of  abolition  fever 
ran  its  course  in  Lincoln  Settlement 
very  true  to  its  national  type.  After  the 
high  temperature  of  public  opinion  over 
Thomas  Lincoln's  freeing  of  the  Runt  had 
reached  its  culminating  scene  in  the  love 
feast,  the  very  next  day  things  became  more 
normal,  though  there  was  still  bad  blood  evi 
denced  for  the  champion  of  freedom.  The 
men  of  the  Settlement  met  the  sullen  boy 
with  averted  eye  or  sneering  glances,  and 
the  women  of  their  households  followed  their 
example,  with  only  added  hurts.  For  a 
number  of  days  Sallie  Bush  passed  the 
young  carpenter  by  with  only  a  swish  of 
her  skirts,  but  eventually  she  came  home  to 
supper  with  Betsy  Hanks,  about  ten  days 
after  the  tragedy,  and  was  ingenuous  enough 

90 


THE  MATRIX 

to  inquire  for  Tom,  when  he  failed  to  put  in 
his  appearance  at  the  evening  repast  of  his 
new  home.  He  was  represented,  however, 
by  wild  turkey,  grape  jelly,  walnut  pickle 
and  Nancy. 

"Is  n't  Tom  Lincoln  living  with  you  now, 
Mrs.  Hanks?"  Sallie  had  asked  as  she  seated 
herself  by  tall  William  Hanks,  while  Eliza 
beth  Hull,  whom  William  was  industriously 
"noticing,"  eyed  her  askance  from  a  seat  be 
side  big  Joseph.  Tom  on  his  adoption  into 
the  Hanks  family  had  been  given  the  chair 
beside  sweet  Mother  Hanks,  and  upon  that 
particularly  festive  occasion  it  was  notice 
ably  empty.  Next  to  the  vacant  seat  stood 
young  Nancy,  and  as  the  fallen  idol  made 
her  inquiry,  the  youngest  member  of  the 
Hanks  family  finished  piling  two  plates  high 
with  all  the  most  choice  food  on  the  table, 
added  a  huge  dab  of  well  nigh  all  the  jelly 
and  stood  poised  for  departure.  But  before 
she  went  she  thus  delivered  herself: 

91 


THE  MATRIX 

"Me  and  Tom  likes  to  eat  together  out  in 
the  woods  when  folks  we  don't  like  is  visit 
ing  us,"  with  which  she  swept  from  the  log 
room  with  her  stately  little  head  poised  so 
high  that  she  was  in  danger  of  falling  over 
backwards. 

"Switch  tea  is  the  only  medicine  that 
would  do  her  any  good,"  remarked  William 
Hanks,  in  a  temper  over  this  insult  to  the 
young  lady  visiting  at  the  hospitable  par 
ental  board. 

"The  tree  ain't  planted  yet  that  '11  grow  a 
switch  for  my  Nancy,"  laughed  Nancy's 
father. 

"She  '11  come  back  presently  and  make 
her  manners,"  Mother  Hanks  promised  with 
an  apologetic  tone  of  voice,  but  a  twinkle 
in  her  eyes  that  matched  her  husband's 
laugh. 

However,  Nancy  did  not  return  and 
make  her  apologies.  She  was  engaged  in 
witnessing  a  scene  of  a  great  sentiment, 
92 


THE  MATRIX 

which  has  made  its  impression  on  the  Amer 
ican  national  character  and  institutions. 

The  Runt  had  got  away  from  maternal 
authority  and  had  come  hunting  for  Tom 
like  a  dog  for  its  master.  His  shoulder  was 
in  a  rude  splint  and  a  white  rag  encircled 
his  bullet  head.  He  flung  himself  out  of 
the  woods,  and  at  Tom  and  Nancy's  feet,  as 
they  sat  astride  a  log  with  the  two  high- 
piled  plates  between  them. 

"Miss  Susie  said  I  must  n't  come  ter  you, 
Marse  Tom,  'cause  you  had  done  give  me 
away,"  he  panted.  "But  I  broke  aloose  and 
come  a-running.  Oh,  Marse  Tom,  say  I  'm 
your  nigger  and  you  ain't  flung  me  away." 
The  pleading  on  the  poor  little  crow's  face 
was  an  agony. 

"I  did  n't  give  you  away,  Runt,  I  freed 
you,"  Tom  answered  with  affection  fairly 
shining  in  his  solemn  eyes. 

"Don't  say  that,  Marse  Tom,  don't  say 
that!"  pleaded  the  Runt,  dropping  on  his 

93 


THE  MATRIX 

knees  before  the  abolitionist,  who  had  given 
him  a  man's  most  precious  possession. 
"What 's  a  nigger  going  to  do  that  don't 
belong  to  nobody?" 

The  question  asked  by  the  Runt  in  agony, 
rose  from  hundreds  of  thousands  of  black 
throats  after  July  fourth,  eighteen  sixty -two, 
and  its  echo  has  not  entirely  died  away  even 
unto  this  day. 

The  question  was  up  to  Thomas  Lincoln 
and  it  staggered  him.  However,  Nancy 
Hanks  had  the  same  solution  ready  to  offer 
that  was  used  by  the  women  of  the  Confed 
eracy  when  they  were  left  with  helpless  freed- 
men  to  feed  and  control  while  the  men  of 
their  family  fought  over  their  destinies. 

"You  go  right  on  working,  and,  trade 
work  for  what  you  need,"  Nancy  said,  as  she 
picked  up  a  broad  plantin  leaf  and  put  a 
generous  dinner  from  her  own  plate  and 
Tom's  upon  it,  for  the  sustaining  of  the  new- 
fledged  freedman.  Her  Southern  feminine 

94 


THE  MATRIX 

posterity  promptly  gave  the  liberated  slaves 
an  acre  and  a  mule  with  which  to  work,  and 
shared  the  crops  thus  produced,  so  institut 
ing  an  economic  system  which  holds  in  the 
South  even  unto  this  day.  The  men  who 
had  fought  with  conviction  of  right  to  hold 
their  slaves,  returned  to  find  that  their 
women  had  harnessed  the  freedmen  to  plows 
to  the  interest  of  everybody  concerned. 

"Go  working  in  the  woods  jest  the  same?" 
questioned  the  Runt  with  relief  in  his  big 
black  eyes. 

"Jest  the  same,"  ratified  Tom,  as  he  rose 
and  stretched  his  long  arms  as  Xancy  handed 
the  dinner  to  the  Runt,  who  squatted  down 
on  his  big  heels  to  consume  it. 

But  the  fate  of  the  Runt  was  not  that 
easily  settled,  and  it  hung  a  dark  cloud  on 
the  horizon  of  the  fate  of  Thomas  Lincoln. 
On  the  surface  things  went  on  as  before, 
Runt  living  in  his  mother's  cabin  and  work 
ing  as  before,  but  the  matter  was  not  ended 

95 


THE  MATRIX 

knees  before  the  abolitionist,  who  had  given 
him  a  man's  most  precious  possession. 
"What 's  a  nigger  going  to  do  that  don't 
belong  to  nobody?" 

The  question  asked  by  the  Runt  in  agony, 
rose  from  hundreds  of  thousands  of  black 
throats  after  July  fourth,  eighteen  sixty-two, 
and  its  echo  has  not  entirely  died  away  even 
unto  this  day. 

The  question  was  up  to  Thomas  Lincoln 
and  it  staggered  him.  However,  Nancy 
Hanks  had  the  same  solution  ready  to  offer 
that  was  used  by  the  women  of  the  Confed 
eracy  when  they  were  left  with  helpless  freed- 
men  to  feed  and  control  while  the  men  of 
their  family  fought  over  their  destinies. 

"You  go  right  on  working,  and,  trade 
work  for  what  you  need,"  Nancy  said,  as  she 
picked  up  a  broad  plantin  leaf  and  put  a 
generous  dinner  from  her  own  plate  and 
Tom's  upon  it,  for  the  sustaining  of  the  new- 
fledged  freedman.  Her  Southern  feminine 

94 


THE  MATRIX 

posterity  promptly  gave  the  liberated  slaves 
an  acre  and  a  mule  with  which  to  work,  and 
shared  the  crops  thus  produced,  so  institut 
ing  an  economic  system  which  holds  in  the 
South  even  unto  this  day.  The  men  who 
had  fought  with  conviction  of  right  to  hold 
their  slaves,  returned  to  find  that  their 
women  had  harnessed  the  freedmen  to  plows 
to  the  interest  of  everybody  concerned. 

"Go  working  in  the  woods  jest  the  same?" 
questioned  the  Runt  with  relief  in  his  big 
black  eyes. 

"Jest  the  same,"  ratified  Tom,  as  he  rose 
and  stretched  his  long  arms  as  Xancy  handed 
the  dinner  to  the  Runt,  who  squatted  down 
on  his  big  heels  to  consume  it. 

But  the  fate  of  the  Runt  was  not  that 
easily  settled,  and  it  hung  a  dark  cloud  on 
the  horizon  of  the  fate  of  Thomas  Lincoln. 
On  the  surface  things  went  on  as  before, 
Runt  living  in  his  mother's  cabin  and  work 
ing  as  before,  but  the  matter  was  not  ended 

95 


THE  MATRIX 

— it  was  to  be  the  crisis  of  Thomas  Lincoln's 
life  history. 

The  summer  that  Tom  lived  under  the 
Hanks  roof  with  Mother  Hanks  and  Nancy, 
his  chief  friend,  though  the  Hanks  boys 
were  friendly  and  big  Joseph  always  kind, 
was  perhaps  the  most  constructive  period 
of  his  life.  His  own  crude  ideals  became 
crystallized  and  he  found  new  ones. 

When  the  crisp  autumn  days  came,  he 
worked  hard  at  the  shop  until  the  light 
failed,  then  he  would  tramp  off  into  the 
woods  to  bring  in  wild  grapes  for  the  jelly, 
nuts  for  curing  and  herbs  for  drying.  In 
the  long  evenings  he  boiled  down  to  sugar 
the  syrup  he  had  got  from  tapping  the 
maple  trees  in  the  spring  in  the  wide  fire 
place  in  which  it  was  pleasant  to  have  a  brisk 
fire.  William  and  Jo  and  the  girls  often 
went  down  to  the  Log  Tavern  for  singing, 
and  the  dancing  of  Virginia  reels,  while  ap- 

96 


pies  were  roasted  and  corn  popped,  but  Tom 
always  stayed  at  home  with  Nancy  and 
Mother  Hanks,  and  the  quiet  evenings  were 
very  precious  to  him. 

As  the  brilliant  autumn  days  began  to 
vanish  earlier  and  earlier  over  the  tree  tops, 
from  which  winter  was  gradually  stealing 
the  mantles  of  gold  and  crimson  and  brown, 
and  the  frosty  nights  grew  longer,  sweet 
Mother  Hanks  drew  into  the  chimney  corner 
and  kept  her  little  homespun  wool  shawl 
wrapped  closer  about  her  thin  shoulders. 
Opposite  her  sat  big  Joseph,  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  grieving  over  her  failing  strength, 
but  keeping  up  his  courage  even  to  himself. 
Before  the  hearth  Nancy  and  Tom  carried 
on  various  winter  activities,  from  the  sugar 
boilings  and  the  sorting  and  laying  away  of 
garden  and  field  seeds  to  Nancy's  spinning, 
for  which  Tom  carded  the  wool  and  cotton. 

Then  when  the  work  was  well  in  hand, 
97 


THE  MATRIX 

Tom  would  reach  up  for  a  large  candle,  light 
it,  set  it  on  a  table  by  Mother  Hanks  and 
make  his  nightly  plea: 

"Read,  Aunt  Nancy,  read!" 

And  to  the  boy  and  girl,  who  were  some 
day  to  form  the  mould  from  which  was  cast 
the  foremost  American,  the  frail  pioneer 
woman  would  read  from  the  few  volumes 
that  she  had  brought  from  Virginia.  "Pil 
grim's  Progress"  delighted  Nancy  and  a 
precious  "JEi sop's  Fables"  was  a  continuous 
source  of  pleasure  to  big  Joseph  Hanks,  but 
Tom  never  tired  of  the  "Psalms  of  David," 
and  he  always  wanted  the  story  of  the  de 
liverance  of  the  Israelites  out  of  Egypt.  As 
he  stirred  and  dipped  and  poured  the  golden 
mass  of  maple  juice  from  kettle  to  kettle 
and  back  again,  his  dark  eyes  would  glow  in 
the  firelight  as  the  gentle  voice  read  on 
through  the  stirring  story  from  the  Lord's 
proclamation  to  Moses: 

98 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  have  also  heard  the  groaning  of  the 
children  of  Israel,  whom  the  Egyptians  keep 
in  bondage,  and  I  have  remembered  my 
covenant — and  I  will  bring  you  out  from 
under  the  burdens  of  the  Egyptians,  and  I 
will  rid  you  out  of  their  bondage- 
through  the  long  wandering  of  the  freedman 
to  the  Divine  command: 

"Moses  my  servant  is  dead,  now  therefore 
arise,  go  over  this  Jordan,  thou,  and  all  thy 
people,  unto  the  land  which  I  do  give  to 
them." 

"A  mighty  story,  a  mighty  story,"  big 
Joseph  would  comment  between  puffs  from 
his  corn  cob  pipe.  "That  Moses  led  a  whole 
nation  of  people  to  freedom.  Seems  a  pity 
he  could  n't  go  into  the  promised  land  with 
'em  and  get  some  of  the  credit." 

99 


THE  MATRIX 

"But  he  started  'em,  he  started  'em," 
Thomas  would  mutter  as  he  poured  a  spoon 
ful  of  the  golden  and  thickening  syrup  on 
a  cedar  chip  and  passed  it  up  for  Nancy's 
judgment  as  to  its  sugaring  off. 

The  story  of  Moses  planted  in  the  heart 
of  Thomas  Lincoln  was  to  bear  its  fruit 
down  the  ages. 

Then  during  some  of  the  long  evenings 
big  Joseph  would  hold  forth,  and  the  thing 
that  most  interested  both  Tom  and  Nancy 
were  his  tales  of  what  their  families  had  done 
"back  in  Virginia  and  still  beyont." 

The  favorite  story  of  Nancy  was  of  the 
participation  of  one  of  Tom's  ancestors, 
Captain  Ockley  Lincoln,  in  the  Boston  Tea 
Party. 

"And  did  they  jest  up  and  throw  all  that 
tea  away  into  the  water  because  they  wanted 
to  be  free  of  England,  Daddy?"  she  would 
ask  with  sparkling  eyes,  for  energetic  action 
always  appealed  to  Nancy.  "I  reckon  the 
100 


THE  MATRIX 

ocean  tasted  like  tea  for  a  week.  I  wisht 
he  'd  been  my  antsister,  Daddy,  'stead  of 
Tom's!" 

"Shoo,  Nancy,"  Tom  would  answer  as  his 
kernels  of  corn  popped  into  white  fluffy  balls, 
"I  '11  trade  him  for  them  Hanks  men  what 
poured  the  iron  fer  the  big  Liberty  Bell 
with  it  written  on  it  'Proclaim  Liberty 
throughout  all  the  land  and  unto  all  the  in 
habitants  thereof.' ' 

"Now  don't  go  and  trade  her  your  uncle 
Levi  Lincoln,  what  the  President  appointed 
Associate  Justice  of  the  States,  Tom.  Your 
Grandpa  Lincoln  set  great  store  by  him  and 
used  to  go  visit  him  in  Philadelphia.  He 
was  a  Secretary  of  State  oncet  and  helped 
make  out  the  constitution  to  run  Massa 
chusetts  by.  Don't  never  trade  your  Uncle 
Levi  away,  Tom.  He  is  a  statesman  and 
you  must  try  to  be  one  too."  As  he  spoke 
Joseph  Hanks  smiled  indulgently  at  the 
awkward,  ignorant  boy  before  him,  who 
101 


THE  MATRIX 

seemed  but  a  scion  of  the  Lincolns  gone  to 
seed. 

In  the  future  his  seed  was  to  be  the  great 
est  of  them  all. 

"I  don't  want  his  Uncle  Levi,  I  want  that 
soldier,  Mister  Lincoln,  at  Yorktown  bat 
tle,"  Nancy  answered,  as  she  made  her 
wheel  whirl  and  spin  as  dexterously  as  ever 
her  mother  had  done.  "It  was  from  him 
that  the  eagle,  with  the  snake  in  his  claws, 
got  on  Tom's  father's  powder  horn.  I  like 
fighting,  I  do." 

"His  grandfather  over  in  England  had  a 
red  cross  with  a  gold  star  in  the  middle  of 
it  worked  on  his  uniform.  You  might  work 
one  on  Tom's  shirt  for  him,  Nancy,  when  you 
ain't  busy,"  big  Joseph  teased. 

"You  can  have  it  to  put  on  your  bonnet, 
Nancy,"  Thomas  said,  as  he  stirred  his  pop 
ping  corn  and  again  dipped  and  poured 
the  sugaring  syrup  from  the  ladle. 

His  hereditary  red  cross  with  a  golden 

102 


THE  MATRIX 

star  would  have  been  a  fitting  emblem  to 
blazon  on  the  arm  of  poor  Tom  Lincoln, 
who  had  the  right  to  them  from  his  fathers 
and  whose  son  would  prove  it  a  fitting  in 
signia. 

"Well,  let 's  don't  make  fun  about  our 
forefathers,  but  be  thankful  they  were  good 
and  gallant  gentlemen,"  Mother  Hanks'  soft 
voice  rather  mused  than  reproved.  "Help 
me  to  bed,  Joseph." 

"Ain't  Aunt  Nancy  getting  weaker, 
Nancy?"  Tom  questioned  with  uneasiness  in 
his  large  affectionate  eyes  that  followed  his 
Uncle  Joseph's  big  frame  as  he  bore  his  deli 
cate  wife  into  her  bedroom. 

"I  don't  know,  is  she,  Tom?"  Nancy  ques 
tioned  with  fright  in  her  eyes  as  she  snapped 
her  thread  and  let  her  wheel  slow  down. 

"Hush,  don't  let  on  before  Uncle  Jo.  He 
can't  stand  it,"  Tom  cautioned  as  the  burly 
pioneer  came  back  into  the  room. 

"S'posen  you  read  us  a  Psalm,  Nancy," 

103 


THE  MATRIX 

said  big  father  Joseph,  who  was  always  con 
sumed  with  pride  when  he  watched  the  dark 
red  head  bent  over  the  big  book  and  heard 
the  sweet  voice  intone  the  excellent  words  of 
David,  the  singer. 

Then  came  last  nights  for  the  little  con 
clave  around  the  fire.  Big  Joseph  Hanks 
was  not  to  be  called  upon  to  "stand"  the 
loss  of  the  wife  of  his  bosom.  In  the  late 
fall  he  was  taken  with  a  congestive  chill 
from  being  too  long  out  in  the  first  and  un 
expected  snow  fall,  and  died  in  less  than  a 
week.  All  the  while  he  was  ill,  Mother 
Hanks  sat  beside  him  with  that  quiet  forti 
tude  a  courageous  soul  in  a  weak  body  often 
shows,  and  her  hand  clasped  his  firmly  until 
it  grew  cold.  She  lived  less  than  a  month, 
for  there  are  some  hearts  that  are  so  closely 
knit  that  when  either  is  amputated,  the  other 
bleeds  to  death;  and  their  union  is  apt  to 
produce  such  as  Nancy  Hanks  and  her 
progeny. 

104 


THE  MATRIX 

The  night  before  the  mother's  going,  she 
sent  her  two  oldest  girls  and  the  boys  from 
the  room  and  drew  her  youngest  child, 
Nancy,  close  against  her  pillow  with  her 
feeble  arms. 

"I  don't  know  why,  Nancy,  but  it  is  in  my 
heart  to  say  something  to  you  that  you  won't 
understand  now.  It  seems  like  a  message 
and  you  must  remember  it.  Love  your  man 
when  you  get  one,  hard,  Nancy,  and  believe 
in  him  and  follow  him  even  to  your  death. 
A  blessing  will  come  of  it.  Remember!" 

And  Nancy  remembered.  The  blessing 
which  came  was  the  heritage  of  a  nation. 

Snowflakes  that  were  like  bits  of  feathers 
from  the  wings  of  the  archangels  floated 
silently  from  the  skies  down  through  the 
stark  branches  of  the  great  forest  trees  un 
der  which  they  buried  sweet,  brave,  gentle 
Nancy  Hanks  beside  the  pioneer  lover  she 
had  followed  into  the  fastness  of  the  great 
new  Commonwealth  on  which  her  love  was 

105 


THE  MATRIX 

to  leave  so  deep  a  mark,  and  covered  her 
grave  with  an  immaculate  pall. 

That  night  there  was  a  solemn  and  heart 
broken  conclave  in  the  parentless  Hanks 
home.  Around  the  huge  hearth  was  as 
sembled  the  whole  family  and  husky  voices 
discussed  what  was  best  to  do  for  the  be 
reaved. 

And  as  usual,  good  Richard  Berry  had  the 
deciding  voice. 

"As  Betsy  is  going  to  be  joined  in  wed 
lock  with  Levi  Hall  so  soon,  and  she  wants 
to  stay  by  him  here,  it  will  be  best  for  Mor- 
decai  and  Susan  to  give  her  shelter  until 
that  culmination,"  he  adjudged  thought 
fully. 

"Welcome  she  '11  be,  Uncle  Berry,"  spoke 
up  Mordecai  promptly,  with  a  sharp  and 
commanding  look  at  rough  Susan,  who  this 
time  rose  to  the  occasion  with  less  acidity 
than  usual. 

106 


THE  MATRIX 

"She  '11  be  a  power  of  help,"  the  aunt 
agreed.  "Aunt  Nancy  has  made  good  spin 
ners  and  weavers  of  her  girls." 

"And  me  and  Thomas  Sparrow  have  got 
a  place  in  our  home  and  hearts  for  Polly  and 
Nancy,"  spoke  up  Elizabeth  Sparrow 
quickly,  as  if  to  get  in  her  claim  before  any 
other  could  be  voiced. 

"Polly,  yes,  Sister  Sparrow,  but—  "  at  this 
point  Richard  Berry's  big  voice  faltered  and 
he  held  out  his  arms  to  Nancy,  who  sat 
crouched  on  the  floor  across  the  hearth  from 
him  with  Tom  Lincoln's  arm  around  her  and 
with  her  great  eyes  dark,  brilliant  with  cour 
ageously  controlled  tears.  Straight  as  an 
arrow  she  flew  into  the  arms  held  out  to  her 
and  as  her  beloved  Uncle  Berry  clasped  her 
close,  gentle  Lucy,  his  wife,  bent  and  patted 
the  gray  and  red  heads  pressed  close  to 
gether.  She  knew  how  far  short  his  two 
rough  boys  had  fallen  in  filling  his  paternal 
107 


THE  MATRIX 

heart,  which  had  always  yearned  enviously 
over  the  Hanks  treasure  with  her  purple 
eyes  and  vigorous  disposition. 

"William  and  Jo  and  Tom  can  manage  to 
make  out  with  Susan  and  Betsy  a-looking 
after  'em  and  they  can  keep  on  with  the 
business,"  said  Mordecai,  making  a  decision 
in  which  the  three  Hanks  boys  acquiesced 
with  nods  of  their  head. 

"Tom  's  going  with  me,"  spoke  up  Nancy 
quickly,  when  she  heard  this  mention  of  Tom 
as  he  sat  silent  in  the  shadow. 

"Shoo,  honey,  we  can't  do  without  Tom, 
fer  a  while  yit,"  big  Mordecai  hastened  to 
say.  "Tom,  he  's  the  master  shingler  in  the 
Settlement  and  they  is  six  houses  to  roof  in 
with  snow  flying  already.  You  don't  want 
nobody  to  freeze,  do  you?" 

All  of  the  family  knew  that  the  only  ap 
peal  from  her  will  that  swayed  young  Nancy 
was  one  made  to  her  sympathies,  and  they 
also  knew  that  as  she  sat  beside  Uncle 

108 


THE  MATRIX 

Berry's  knee  her  position  was  invincible  and 
her  dictums  were  not  to  be  questioned. 

"Granny  Hendricks  is  mighty  old  to  have 
a  leaking  roof  in  winter,"  Jo  Hanks  cau 
tiously  ventured  into  the  conversation.  All 
eyes  were  turned  on  Nancy  as  she  decided 
the  question  of  the  present  residence  and 
activity  of  Thomas. 

"I  '11  let  him  stay  this  winter,  but  when 
leaves  bloom  out  again,  he  '11  have  to  come 
where  I  am,"  Nancy  decided  thoughtfully. 
"You  '11  come  to  me,  Tom,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  '11  come  after  you,"  Tom  prom 
ised,  with  relief  written  all  over  his  somber 
face,  for  the  removal  into  a  strange  com 
munity  would  have  tried  his  bashful  soul  be 
yond  measure.  His  ponderous  imagination 
had  not  shown  him  a  world  devoid  of  Nancy. 
It  was  only  dimly  revealed  to  him  the  next 
day,  when  he  put  her  down  in  the  straw  in 
the  wagon  bed  in  which  she  was  to  be  sledded 
away  from  him  through  the  great  forest, 

109 


THE  MATRIX 

over  whose  white  blanket  of  snow  rested  a 
gray  veil  of  mist,  lined  with  the  black  of  the 
tree-trunks  and  boughs  and  twigs. 

"Don't  forget  me,  honey  bird,"  he  said, 
and  then  as  Richard  Berry  stood  up  and 
cracked  his  whip  over  the  backs  of  the  two 
horses  hitched  to  the  sled,  he  put  his  rough 
cheek  against  hers  and  held  her  close. 

"Never,  Tom,"  she  said  quietly  as  she 
clutched  at  him  for  a  second  before  the 
plunging  horses  tore  her  away  from  him. 

It  was  well  that  neither  Tom  nor  Nancy 
knew  that  their  separation  was  to  last  a 
dozen  years. 


no 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  was  into  a  very  different  world  from 
Lincoln  Settlement  that  the  steaming 
horses  sledded  ten-year-old  Nancy  Hanks. 
The  decade  that  stretched  from  1790  to  1800 
was  and  remains  one  of  the  most  potent  in 
the  annals  of  American  History.  A  steady 
stream  of  settlers,  with  their  huge  wagons, 
flocks,  herds  and  household  goods,  had 
poured  across  the  Appalachian  range  into 
the  Mississippi  Valley,  by  a  road  that  Nature 
had  built  of  the  bridle  paths  of  the  pioneers ; 
and  they  had  settled  themselves  around  the 
outposts  and  stockades  set  up  by  the  hardy 
pioneers  from  Boone  to  Robinson.  In  the 
caravans  came  skilled  workmen  from  across 
the  ocean,  who  began  to  build  forges  and 
make  machinery  for  the  clearing  and  culti 
vating  of  the  broad  acres.  In  1790,  less 
111 


THE  MATRIX 

than  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  cot 
ton  were  exported  from  the  States,  which 
were  at  that  time  struggling  one  by  one  to 
ratify  the  Union  that  had  been  offered  them, 
but  in  1793  Eli  Whitney  invented  the  cot 
ton  gin  in  Georgia,  and  in  1800  America 
sent  across  the  water  nearly  twenty  million 
pounds.  The  South  began  to  grow  rich, 
even  as  it  cleared  its  forests,  and  the  whole 
Mississippi  Valley  teemed  with  energetic 
life. 

The  case  of  the  little  settlement  at  Pleas 
ant  Grove,  which  grew  into  Elizabethtown, 
was  typical.  When  Nancy  Hanks  had 
come  down  the  Wilderness  Trail  with  her 
parents  and  uncles  and  aunts,  the  Berrys 
and  Sparrows  had  left  the  Hankses  and  Lin- 
coins  in  their  cabins  on  Lincoln  Creek,  and 
gone  deeper  into  the  Dark  and  Bloody 
Ground.  They  had  staked  out  their  lands  a 
few  miles  beyond  Elizabethtown,  which  was 
at  a  crossing  of  the  roads  that  were  trav- 

112 


THE  MATRIX 

elled  by  the  emigrants  going  into  Tennessee 
and  Ohio,  and  which  had  grown  like  the 
proverbial  mushroom,  far  outdistancing  the 
Lincoln  Settlement. 

As  Nancy  was  sledded  through  the  village, 
a  bright  wintry  morning  in  late  November, 
her  big  purple  eyes  were  wide  open  with 
eager  astonishment  as  she  beheld  the  poplar 
log  court  house  built  in  the  center  of  a  square, 
around  whose  decorous  lines  were  planted  a 
number  of  other  houses  not  built  of  logs, 
but  of  crude  brick  laid  with  mud. 

"How  did  they  nail  those  houses,  Uncle 
Berry?"  Nancy  demanded,  as  she  stood  up 
in  the  sled  and  craned  her  neck  out  over  the 
high  front  seat. 

"Stuck  'em  together  with  mud,  sweet- 
ling,"  answered  Mr.  Berry  with  a  pleased 
laugh  at  Nancy's  powers  of  observation. 

"I  thought  all  houses  was  made  outen 
logs,"  she  said,  still  looking  back  at  the  in 
teresting  houses  without  nails,  as  Mr.  Berry 

113 


THE  MATRIX 

turned  off  the  public  square  into  the  road 
that  led  out  to  Beechland. 

"We  've  got  boards  nailed  over  the  logs 
in  our  house,  Nancy,"  said  Frank  Berry 
with  a  laugh.  "Only  country  folks  live  in 
log  houses."  Frank  spoke  with  the  conde 
scension  of  fifteen  years  to  ten  and  got  the 
retort  that  is  usually  given  between  those 
ages,  only  Nancy's  answer  showed  the  quick 
wit  to  which  she  had  been  born. 

"Logs  raise  up  better  manners  than 
planks,"  she  sniffed,  with  a  flare  of  dignified 
anger  from  her  big  eyes. 

"She  winged  you  there,  son,  and  I  '11  limb 
you  if  you  ever  again  give  her  cause  for  a 
shot  like  that,"  said  Mr.  Berry  as  he  drove 
his  steaming  team  along  the  road  towards 
the  plank-covered  log  abode.  "A  boy  with 
a  sister  has  got  to  make  his  steps  slide  easy 
and  cautious  like." 

"Yes,  Pa,"  answered  Frank  meekly. 

"Welcome,  Nancy,  and  may  this  be  a  true 

114 


THE  MATRIX 

home  to  you,"  Uncle  Berry  said  as  he  stepped 
down  over  the  runners  and  held  up  his  arms 
to  the  bereaved  child. 

Perhaps  what  comforted  Nancy  most  in 
her  first  hard  orphaned  days  was  the  finding 
of  Sarah  Mitchell  in  the  Berry  household. 
Xancy  had  heard  of  Sarah's  return  after 
the  Wayne  Indian  treaty,  but  it  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true,  to  go  off  in  a  corner  and  sit 
with  Sarah's  arm  around  her  and  hear  about 
the  five  years  of  captivity  with  the  old  squaw 
in  the  tepee.  Such  stories  were  a  never  fail 
ing  diversion  from  her  loss. 

"Let  me  tell  you  about  what  the  Indian 
did  when  he  found  your  chewed  rope  that 
morning,"  Sarah  wrould  offer  if  she  waked 
and  found  Nancy  deep  in  the  tears  of  mother 
hunger  in  the  dead  of  night  on  the  pillow 
next  to  hers. 

"What  did  he  do?"  Nancy  would  stop 
sobbing  to  ask,  though  she  had  heard  it  over 
and  over. 

115 


THE  MATRIX 

"He  whipped  his  squaw  first  and  then— 

And  gentle  Sarah  never  failed  to  be  sur 
prised  by  Nancy's  showing  her  judicial  tem 
perament  by  remarking: 

"That  squaw  oughter  watched  when  he 
told  her  to." 

And  with  Sarah  in  it  the  Berry  home  was 
a  real  home  for  Nancy  the  next  decade  of 
her  life.  The  house  was  wide  and  comfort 
able  and  very  typical  of  the  homes  that  the 
pioneers  achieved  for  themselves,  after  the 
days  of  "settling"  had  passed.  The  orig 
inal  log  cabin  of  some  thirty  square  feet  had 
first  been  duplicated,  with  an  open  porch  be 
tween  the  new  room  and  the  old.  Then 
wings  and  lean-tos  had  been  built  and  the 
whole  covered  in  with  a  wide  shingled  roof, 
in  which  dormer  windows  had  been  cut  to 
make  available  the  large  space  under  the 
arched  timbers.  Then  an  enterprising 
Scotchman  had  come  along  to  build  a  crude 
saw-mill,  and  forthwith  the  log  homes  of  the 

116 


THE  MATRIX 

well-to-do  inhabitants  of  what  had  now  been 
named  the  township  of  Beechland,  and  of 
Elizabethtown  a  few  miles  away,  were  cov 
ered  with  wide  rough  planks,  which  soon 
weathered  to  a  soft  gray. 

Back  of  the  Berry  home  rolled  away  more 
than  a  hundred  acres,  which  Richard  Berry, 
his  boys  and  a  few  slaves  obtained  from  trad 
ers,  had  cleared  and  planted  with  cotton, 
which  soared  in  price  by  the  month.  Inside 
the  house  were  all  the  comforts  obtainable. 
Mule  pack  merchants  had  begun  to  stream 
out  from  the  manufacturing  centers  of  the 
Atlantic  Coast,  and  they  brought  writh  them 
everything  from  thin  china  and  silverware 
to  exquisite  purple  and  fine  linen  for  the 
adorning  of  the  gentry  for  a  gala  occasion. 
However,  the  majority  of  the  population  of 
Beechland  and  Elizabethtown  was  still 
clothed  in  homespun  woven  from  the  prod 
ucts  of  the  fields  near  at  hand. 

And  it  was  at  the  loom  that  Nancy  first 
117 


THE  MATRIX 

distinguished  herself  and  put  herself  in  line 
to  become  as  prominent  a  citizen  of  Beech- 
land  and  Elizabethtown  as  of  Lincoln 
Creek. 

"Well,  Nancy,  how  about  Miss  Kille- 
brew's  Dame  School  in  Elizabethtown  after 
Christmas,"  Uncle  Berry  had  said  to  the 
young  lady  in  his  house  one  evening  after 
supper,  as  they  all  sat  around  the  fire  in  the 
big  living-room  which  was  bright  with  a  rag- 
woven  carpet,  white  cotton  curtains  and  a 
melodeon  in  the  corner,  which  had  been  a 
burden  borne  by  two  weary  mules  all  the 
way  from  Philadelphia. 

"I  can  read  better'n  Milly  Hume  or  Jean 
Robinson  right  now,  and  they  're  sixteen," 
answered  Nancy,  as  she  turned  her  wheel 
and  set  the  fine  white  cotton  thread  running 
through  her  slim  little  fingers  onto  the  huge 
wooden  bodkin.  "My  mother  knew  more 
than  Miss  Killebrew  and  she  taught—  "  here 
the  firm  young  voice  broke  and  tears  glit- 
318 


THE  MATRIX 

tered  on  the  swiftly  moving  fingers  which 
did  not  falter  at  their  task,  even  under  the 
stress  of  an  aching  and  lonely  heart. 

"Yes,  and  Nancy  is  a  whole  lot  prettier  'n 
any  girl  in  Elizabethtown,"  young  Ned 
Berry  hastened  to  exclaim  with  the  loyalty 
of  a  deep  affection,  which  had  grown  in  his 
heart  for  his  young  foster  sister.  "I  bet 
two  bits  her  hair  is  a  foot  longer  than  any 
girl's  that  lives  there." 

"Well,  as  that  is  the  case,  of  course  Nancy 
don't  need  to  go  to  school,"  agreed  Uncle 
Berry  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as  the  dim 
ples  broke  cover  around  Nancy's  mouth, 
even  while  the  last  tear  was  dripping  from 
her  eyes. 

"Yes,  Sister  Nancy  always  took  more  edu 
cation  than  the  rest  of  us  sisters,"  said  Aunt 
Lucy  from  her  chair  over  in  the  chimney 
corner.  "Nobody  could  want  any  more 
education  than  she  had,  and  I  expect  she 
gave  most  of  hers  to  Nancy." 

119 


THE  MATRIX 

"But  maybe  I  have  n't  got  enough,  so  I  '11 
go  to  school  some,"  Nancy  decided  for  her 
self,  in  a  capable  young  voice,  as  she  whirled 
her  wheel.  "Most  of  the  time  I  'm  going 
to  learn  to  make  dyes  out  of  wood  things 
like  Tom  was  teaching  me  and  weave  cloth 
in  patterns  for  trade." 

The  mother  of  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
probably  the  first  woman  in  Kentucky  to 
enter  trade  and  secure  her  own  financial  in 
dependence.  By  the  time  she  was  sixteen, 
Nancy  Hanks  was  dyeing  and  weaving  fab 
rics  that  competed  with  those  of  the  mule 
pack  and  prairie  schooner  merchants.  At 
that  age  of  feminine  enchantment  she  was 
very  tall  and  broad  and  high  headed  and 
clean  limbed.  She  clothed  her  beautiful 
budding  young  body  in  her  own  choicest 
weaves,  and  their  cut  was  so  suited  to  her 
lithe  young  lines  that  she  strongly  resembled 
a  lady  of  very  high  degree  as  she  went  along 
her  independent  course  of  existence  in  and 

120 


THE  MATRIX 

out  and  around  and  about  Elizabethtown, 
into  which  she  rode  whenever  she  chose. 
And  nobody  could  deny  that  she  was  one 
of  the  small  metropolis'  most  prominent  citi 
zens.  Where  Nancy  Hanks  happened  to 
be,  there  was  the  center  of  interest. 

Xow  Elizabethtown  had  reached  that 
stage  of  its  development  from  its  settlement 
days  at  which  the  inhabitants  begin  to  di 
vide  themselves  into  arbitrary  groups,  finan 
cial,  cultural  and  religious. 

Sandy  MacGill  had  added  a  very  good 
brick  kiln  to  his  now  numerous  saw  mills, 
and  he  and  Ned  Berry,  with  his  father's  fi 
nancial  aid  and  advice,  were  becoming  first- 
class  builders  of  the  sturdy,  bewinged  houses 
with  white  columns  supporting  the  roofs  of 
their  front  porches,  over  which  roses  of  im 
ported  English  variety  wreathed  themselves. 
And  in  the  stately  parlors  constructed  by 
Sandy  and  Ned,  which  were  often  planned 
out  on  paper  by  Nancy  Hanks,  on  the  win- 
121 


THE  MATRIX 

ter  nights  with  Ned  before  the  Berry  log 
fire  out  at  Beechland,  there  had  come  spin- 
nets  and  melodeons,  English  chintz  curtains, 
French  damask,  and  also  imported  fine  man 
ners. 

"Say,  Nancy,  Milly  Hume  got  home 
from  that  Philadelphia  school  today,  and 
they  have  learned  all  remembers  of  me  outen 
her  head,"  Frank  Berry  laughed  as  he  filled 
his  pipe  and  looked  at  the  crude  architec 
tural  sketch  Nancy  was  making  for  Ned  to 
use  in  constructing  the  eight-room  house  in 
which  the  father  of  the  highly  educated 
Milly  expected  to  cage  her.  "Maybe  my 
leather  apron  and  tool  box  was  what  you  call 
a  disguise  to  her." 

"Milly's  head  ain't  big  enough  to  hold  you 
and  a  blue  silk  parasol  at  the  same  time, 
Frank,"  Nancy  laughed  with  good-humored 
toleration.  She  had  herself  received  a  frigid 
salutation  from  Miss  Hume  that  afternoon 

122 


THE  MATRIX 

in  Elizabethtown,  and  she  had  been  ponder 
ing  it. 

Two  summers  later  Miss  Mildred  Hume, 
Miss  Jean  Robinson  and  a  half  dozen  other 
feminine  scions  of  the  leading  families  of 
Washington  County,  Kentucky,  were  grad 
uated  back  to  their  native  heath,  and  about 
that  time  a  still  larger  number  of  masculine 
young  bloods  got  back  from  the  foreign 
cities  of  Boston,  Xew  York  and  Philadel 
phia,  where  they  had  been  sent  for  a  cul 
tural  inlay  upon  their  backwoods  manhood. 
Thereupon  social  distinctions  were  for  the 
first  time  laid  down.  On  the  Public  Square 
Pioneers  Hume  arid  Robinson  and  Meri- 
weather,  in  their  purple  and  fine  linen,  still 
eagerly  met  Pioneers  Berry  and  Sparrow 
and  Hull  and  Clancy  in  their  dark-eyed  and 
dignified  homespun,  slapped  each  other  on 
the  back  and  swapped  trapper  tales  and 
political  opinions  of  Thomas  Jefferson  and 

123 


THE  MATRIX 

in  the  coffee  houses  of  Philadelphia,  from 
which  city  he  had  just  returned  after  a 
number  of  years'  educational  sojourn,  turned 
and  presented  a  face  of  considerable  interest. 

"I  wonder  if  Nancy  Hanks  will  be  there?" 
he  asked. 

"Sure  to,  and  where  Nancy  is  there  is 
going  to  be  a  great  frolic,"  answered  Mr. 
Robinson  with  a  broad  and  affectionate 
smile,  as  he  polished  his  huge  gold-rimmed 
glasses.  "The  minx  sold  me  fifty  pounds  of 
maple  sugar  she  and  Frank  Berry  have  made 
at  a  half  cent  over  price,  but  I  made  her 
throw  in  a  piece  of  homespun  of  a  rich  but 
ternut  that  I  want  for  a  vest.  Nancy  is  a 
born  trader  and  the  Lord  help  this  township 
if  she  takes  to  horses." 

"Poor,  rough  Nancy,"  Miss  Robinson  ad 
judged  languidly,  as  she  smiled  with  the  in 
tent  of  enchantment  upon  Mr.  Meriweather, 
who  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  very  desir 
able  and  lovely  personage  in  his  tight  snuff - 

126 


THE  MATRIX 

colored  broadcloth  trousers,  pigeon-tailed 
long  coat  and  much  beruffled  shirt  sur 
mounted  by  a  high  black  satin  stock.  And 
his  beauty  was  not  his  only  allurement.  A 
Clinton  uncle  of  great  wealth  in  Philadelphia 
had  just  concluded  arrangements  for  the 
first  bank  in  the  township  and  had  made 
young  Clint  its  president,  cashier  and  clerk. 
However,  the  young  combination  bank  offi 
cial  failed  to  be  enchanted  and  pursued  the 
subject  of  Nancy  Hanks. 

"Breck  Kyle  says  she  is  a  humdinger,"  he 
observed,  as  he  rose  from  the  bench  of  the 
spinnet  beside  Miss  Robinson  with  pursuit 
plainly  in  his  eye. 

And  at  that  moment  was  laid  a  founda 
tion  for  trouble  from  which  brave  Nancy 
was  to  suffer,  even  into  history. 

And  the  meeting  of  Nancy  Hanks  with 
Clinton  Meriweather  was  after  this  manner: 

Nancy  had  dressed  early  for  the  candy 
pull  and  ridden  into  Elizabethtown.  She 
127 


THE  MATRIX 

had  donned  the  violet  dress  with  the  fine 
white  tucker  which  lay  close  and  sweet  in 
just  the  perfect  line  around  the  creamy  col 
umn  of  her  round  neck,  which  supported  her 
stately  little  head,  bound  about  with  fluffy 
red-gold  braids  in  the  most  beautiful  pagan 
poise,  and  fell  open  almost  to  the  arch  of 
her  round  breast.  The  soft  fine  cotton  fab 
ric  was  cut  in  long  lines  which  displayed  the 
fine  symmetry  of  flanks  and  back  and  hips 
which  were  as  strong  and  lithe  as  a  man's. 
Her  slender  feet  were  clad  in  a  pair  of  the 
most  shapely  slippers  ever  carried  by  mules 
from  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  and  her  slen 
der  little  ankles  were  covered  by  stockings 
knitted  of  the  very  finest  thread  ever  drawn 
from  a  wheel,  with  the  most  intricate  pattern 
of  drop-stitch  clocks  ever  devised  by  the 
mind  of  woman.  And  Nancy,  though 
armed  for  conquest,  was  out  for  business,  and 
the  light  that  made  her  big  purple  eyes  glow 
back  of  their  dark  fringe  and  her  full  red 

128 


THE  MATRIX 

mouth  break  over  her  big  white  teeth  with 
a  smile  of  delightful  satisfaction,  was  from 
the  fact  that  she  had  just  sold  Mr.  Giles  Clai- 
bourne  another  fifty  pounds  of  sugar  at  a 
still  higher  price  than  that  at  which  Mr. 
Hume  had  acquired  his  buckets  and  with  no 
homespun  to  boot.  The  trade  had  been 
made  in  front  of  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern, 
and  Nancy  was  not  at  all  aware  of  the  part 
her  gala  attire  had  taken  in  the  deal,  but 
laid  it  all  entirely  to  her  business  acumen. 
Mr.  Claibourne  was  the  grocery  king  of  the 
town  as  well  as  the  Circuit  Judge  of  the  Dis 
trict  Court.  He  was  also  a  widower  of 
thirty  with  four  small  Claibournes  on  his 
heart  and  mind  in  a  disordered,  negro-con 
ducted  home.  Nancy  could  have  sold  him 
the  sugar  at  any  price  if  she  had  just  recog 
nized  the  fact. 

And  while  she  was  smiling  over  her  trade, 
she  came  face  to  face  with  Clinton  Meri- 
weather.  They  stood  facing  each  other  for 

129 


THE  MATRIX 

a  moment  like  beautiful  wood  creatures,  then 
both  faces  broke  into  delighted  smiles. 

"Nancy  Hanks!"  exclaimed  the  young 
banker  with  a  sharp  intake  of  his  breath 
from  very  astonishment  at  the  beauty  of  the 
girl. 

"Is  it  Clinton  Meriweather?"  asked 
Nancy  with  cordiality  beginning  to  shine 
back  of  the  lashes  that  curled  themselves 
up  at  an  angle  of  delighted  inquiry.  "Wel 
come  home!"  As  she  spoke  she  held  out  her 
hand  and  Mr.  Meriweather  met  a  grasp 
whose  strength  surprised  him. 

"Please  forgive  me  for  the  circleburs  I 
put  in  your  hair  the  last  time  I  saw  you, 
and  the  time  I  made  you  stump  your  big 
toe  by  jumping  at  you  around  the  corner 
of  Babbitt's  store."  As  he  pleaded,  Clinton 
held  Nancy's  strong  brown  hand  in  his  and 
turned  and  began  to  walk  with  her  towards 
her  horse,  hitched  in  front  of  the  Court 
House. 

130 


THE  MATRIX 

"When  I  heard  you  were  coming  home  I 
put  up  my  plats  and  put  on  my  shoes," 
Nancy  laughed,  and  the  color  rose  on  her 
cheeks  as  she  found  it  slightly  difficult  to 
withdraw  her  hand  from  that  of  her  old  tor 
mentor. 

"Yes,  you  'd  better  be — be  on  guard," 
Clinton  answered  her  with  color  in  his  own 
cheeks.  "I  've  come  home  to  stay  now  and 
I  'm  going  to  make  it  worth  your  while  to— 

"Oh,  Clint,  I  think  it  is  wonderful  for 
Elizabethtown  to  have  a  real  bank  and  I  '11 
be  mighty  glad  to  put  my  two  gourds  full 
of  money  in  it,  but  how  will  you  know  whose 
money  is  whose?  Tell  me  just  how  you  '11 
do  it  all."  Nancy's  quick  change  of  mind 
from  sentiment  to  business  was  so  genuine 
that  it  carried  Clinton  Meriweather  with  her. 
There  is  nothing  so  exciting  to  a  fledgling 
business  man  as  to  discuss  high  finance  with 
a  woman  still  younger  and  still  more  igno 
rant  than  himself. 

131 


THE  MATRIX 

When  Nancy  Hanks  rode  out  to  the  Hull 
candy  pulling  Clinton  Meriweather  rode  on 
her  horse  behind  her,  and  they  still  talked 
business  as  her  two-year-old  Baldy  pranced 
and  shied  along  in  the  starlit  twilight,  jos 
tling  soft  homespun  shoulder  against  the 
brawn  under  the  broadcloth.  Nancy  Hanks 
broke  in  most  of  the  horses  ridden  by  the 
feminine  population  of  Elizabethtown. 

The  welcome  of  the  candy  pullers,  for  the 
banker,  was  hearty,  for  all  stockade  boys 
and  girls  had  known  each  other  well  in  a 
barefoot  freedom  of  friendship  when  In 
dians  had  threatened.  Rosannah  Ingrain 
and  Hannah  Lytsey  pulled  his  candy  with 
him  with  as  openly  eager  coquetry  as  Miss 
Robinson  had  veiled,  and  Nancy  Sparrow 
matched  popping  corn  with  him  on  the 
hearth.  Great  had  been  the  mirth  when 
the  grain  named  for  the  guest  of  honor 
popped  defiantly  away  from  the  one  named 
for  the  little  Sparrow.  The  young  banker 

132 


picked  up  his  kernel  in  feigned  ruefulness, 
but  later  he  handed  it  to  Nancy  Hanks  with 
a  significant  look  from  his  big  blue  eyes. 
Nancy  ate  it  without  looking  at  him,  and 
turned  to  take  walnut  meats  from  Sam 
Hardstay's  plow-calloused  hand. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  it  was  after  ten 
o'clock  and  every  soft  lump  of  molasses 
candy  pulled  into  a  yellow  plat  before  Mr. 
Meriweather  arrived  at  the  Hume  residence, 
just  in  time  to  have  ice  cream  and  cake 
served  to  him  in  paper  frills,  imported  from 
Baltimore  and  France. 

"Where  Ve  you  been,  Clint?"  demanded 
young  Breck  Kyle,  whose  indorsement  of 
the  charms  of  Nancy  Hanks  had  been  re 
sponsible  for  the  bank  president's  pursuit 
thereof. 

"Business,"  answered  his  friend.  "The 
Elizabethtown  bank  has  secured  its  first  de 
positor." 

"Who,    Clinton?"    demanded   Jean   with 

133 


THE  MATRIX 

cordiality  coming  back  into  her  cool  face 
and  voice  at  thus  hearing  that  business  was 
the  cause  of  her  guest's  late  arrival. 

"Nancy  Hanks.  She  had  nearly  thirty 
dollars  in  two  gourds,  and  they  are  now 
locked  up  in  my  safe.  Yes,  Kyle,  she  's  a 
humdinger." 

Seven  very  highly  educated  young  ladies 
exchanged  significant  glances  at  this  mo 
ment  and  seven  white  shoulders  above  real 
lace  frills  were  slightly  elevated. 

"Poor  Nancy,"  remarked  Jean  Robinson, 
as  she  turned  and  began  to  make  a  noise  of 
"Annie  Laurie,"  of  which  poor  Nancy  would 
have  made  delicious  music. 

And  to  be  just,  how  could  a  big  strapping, 
beautiful  free  woman,  who  walked  among 
the  men  their  equal  in  strength  and  prowess 
and  acumen,  fail  to  be  a  menace  to  a  circle 
of  fine  ladies,  who  had  been  taught  at  great 
expense  that  a  woman's  place  is  to  sit  at 
home  and  sew  a  seam,  fine  or  coarse,  accord- 

134 


THE  MATRIX 

ing  to  her  station?  Their  little  tea  drinkings 
would  have  been  dull  indeed  had  they  not  had 
the  doings  of  Nancy  to  thrill  them  with 
horror. 

"I  saw  Nancy  Hanks  coming  out  of  the 
woods  with  polk  berries  in  a  basket  and,  my 
dear,  her  dress  is  at  least  four  inches  from 
the  ground.  I  could  see  all  of  her  ankle." 

"She  had  her  sleeves  rolled  to  her  shoul 
ders  at  the  corn  husking  the  other  night,  and 
husked  with  the  men  and  beat  them.  How 
coarse!" 

"I  met  her  driving  a  hay  wagon  out  on  the 
road  and  I  saw  a  half  yard  of  her  leg  when 
she  used  the  brake.  Clinton  Meriweather 
wras  with  me  and  I  felt  so  sorry  for  her, 
though  she  did  n't  seem  to  mind  and  waved 
her  hat  at  us." 

"I  saw  her  standing  in  front  of  the  Tav 
ern  talking  to  five  men,  who  were  all  laugh 
ing  at  her,  and  I  crossed  the  street." 

"I  met  her  in  front  of  the  Court  House 

135 


THE  MATRIX 

with  Clint  and  Breck  and  Lee  the  other  day, 
and  I  simply  failed  to  see  them.  Now  Lee 
is  n't  speaking  to  me." 

So  it  was  that  Nancy  Hanks  paid  the  pen 
alty  of  being  one  of  the  buds  on  the  human 
race  that  flower  once  in  many  generations 
in  any  land.  The  normal  man  resents  the 
superman  and  the  feeling  is  intensified  when 
the  persons  in  question  are  of  the  other  sex. 
And  as  the  supermen  and  women  are  apt  to 
bud  in  the  class  of  the  genuine  toilers,  who 
do  the  constructive  work  of  their  commun 
ities,  the  protest  of  the  cultured  idlers  is  apt 
to  be  bitter.  The  situation  has  been  voiced 
in  song  and  story  long  before  the  day  of 
Nancy  Hanks,  and  will  be  repeated  into  the 
future  indefinitely. 


136 


CHAPTER  VII 

BY  the  time  she  had  reached  her  majority 
Nancy  Hanks  was  indeed  the  foremost 
citizen  of  Elizabethtown,  and  if  she  had 
been  a  man  she  would  have  undoubtedly  been 
either  Sheriff  or  Judge.  In  her  own  small 
group  of  young  folk  she  was  an  absolute  dic 
tator  and  she  drove  them  fast  and  hard. 
However,  at  times  she  had  serious  group 
troubles,  and  not  the  least  was  with  Nancy 
Sparrow,  her  own  cousin,  who  was  the  thorn 
in  the  flesh  of  gallant  Nancy,  and  whose  es 
capades  were  often  credited  to  the  account 
that  History  was  even  then  keeping  on 
Nancy  Hanks. 

"Nancy,  honey,  I  jest  don't  know  what  to 
do  about  my  Nancy,  and  that  wild  Breck 
Kyle,"  her  aunt  Elizabeth  Sparrow  said  to 
137 


THE  MATRIX 

Nancy  Hanks,  whom  she  had  stopped  as  she 
was  riding  by  the  Sparrow  home  on  her  way 
into  Elizabethtown  with  a  bolt  of  butternut 
jeans  and  one  of  bleached  cotton  sheeting  in 
her  saddle-bags.  "She  went  out  with  him 
last  night  on  a  buggy  ride  and — and  it  was 
'most  midnight  when  she  snuck  in.  I  don't 
want  her  daddy  to  know  'cause  they  would  be 
killing  shore.  And  Charlie  Friend  waiting 
to  marry  her,  too." 

"What  did  she  say,  Aunt  Lizzie?"  asked 
Nancy  with  determination  lighting  her  pur 
ple  eyes,  and  a  firm  line  straightening  the 
curves  of  her  red  mouth. 

"She  gave  me  sass  and  went  on  up  the  lad 
der  into  her  room.  Oh,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do,  Nancy,  for  I  have  my  suspicions  that 
disgrace  is  coming.  Say  something  to  her, 
Nancy,  she  '11  listen  to  you." 

"Suspicion  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  breeds 
disgrace.  Don't  you  fret,  Aunt  Lizzie,  I  '11 
attend  to  Nancy  and — Breck  Kyle,"  the 

138 


THE  MATRIX 

young  dictator  answered  as  she  induced  Bald 
to  come  down  on  all  four  feet  and  progress 
towards  the  Public  Square.  As  she  rode 
along  there  was  the  lilt  of  a  scarlet  tanager 
issuing  from  her  throat. 

If  Napoleon  Bonaparte  had  known  of 
Nancy  Hanks  he  would  have  given  her  a 
staff  appointment.  And  when  Nancy  went 
into  action  she  went  into  quick  action. 

After  she  had  hitched  Bald,  the  first  of 
the  eternal  triangle  she  met  was  big  clumsy 
Charlie  Friend,  who  had  cleared  ten  acres 
of  land  over  on  the  Creek  since  his  sixteenth 
year,  planted  it  in  cotton  as  he  cleared,  and 
who  was  now  finishing  the  building  of  a  two- 
room  cabin  on  it.  He  had  the  strength  of  a 
Samson  but  his  blood  ran  as  weak  as  water 
when  he  was  in  the  presence  of  Nancy  Spar 
row,  though  it  also  burned  red  in  his  huge 
ears. 

"Howday,  Nancy  Hanks,"  he  said  with  a 
broad  grin  as  Nancy  stopped,  lifted  the 

139 


THE  MATRIX 

bolts  of  cloth  she  was  carrying  from  her 
head  to  her  hip,  and  stopped  for  a  parley 
with  him.  Man  and  boy  looked  upon  Nancy 
as  a  comrade  if  they  looked  not  with  desire. 

"Say,  Charlie,  folks  say  you  are  backward 
about  asking  Nancy  Sparrow  to  live  in  that 
fine  new  cabin.  I  don't  like  folks  to  make 
fun  of  Nancy,"  as  Nancy  spoke  these  words 
of  untruth  and  guile,  she  looked  at  Charlie, 
who  had  got  crimson  of  ears  at  the  very 
mention  of  the  object  of  his  desires,  with  af 
fectionate  respect  that  put  stiffening  into  his 
very  marrow. 

"You  well  know  that  Nancy  Sparrow 
won't  even  look  at  me,  Nancy,"  poor  Charlie 
faltered. 

"She  'd  have  to  look  at  you  if  you  grabbed 
her  good  and  hard  and  shook  her  and  made 
her  listen  to  you."  Nancy  advised  this 
course  of  action  well  knowing  that  the  most 
vigorous  pioneer  methods  of  love  warfare 
had  a  hundred  per  cent,  chance  to  succeed. 

140 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  'm  skeered  of  her,  Nancy,"  poor 
Charlie  pleaded. 

"Skeer  never  caught  a  woman  for  a  man 
yet!"  Nancy  called  over  her  shoulder  as  she 
swung  away  down  the  road,  being  wise 
enough  to  leave  seeds  to  sprout  and  grow 
after  she  had  planted  them. 

Her  method  of  handling  the  apex  of  the 
eternal  triangle  was  just  as  skillful  if  more 
direct.  She  encountered  Breckenridge 
Kyle  in  front  of  the  Eliz^abethtown  Tavern 
and  bespoke  him  thus. 

"Breck,  Nancy  Sparrow  is  going  to  marry 
Charlie  Friend  Saturday  night,  and  you  are 
invited  to  mind  your  own  business.  If  you 
don't  I  '11  ask  Mr.  Robinson  to  put  a  stop 
to  your  gallivanting.  Uncle  Tom  Sparrow 
saved  his  life  from  two  Injuns  and  he  won't 
let  one  of  his  clerks  bring  trouble  on  Uncle 
Tom." 

"Whew,  Nancy,  stop  and  get  your 
breath,"  Breck  laughed,  but  Nancy  could 

141 


THE  MATRIX 

see  that  her  shot  had  told.  Breckenridge's 
position  in  Mr.  Robinson's  land  claim  office 
was  a  very  ambitious  and  lucrative  one,  com 
bining  the  maximum  of  returns  with  the  min 
imum  of  effort.  "I  Ve  got  to  gallivant 
somebody  because  I  can't  get  you,"  Breck- 
enridge  dared.  "Nan  Sparrow  looks  like 
you  faded  out." 

"Sometimes  gallivanting  backwards  draws 
a  woman.  Try  that  on  me,  Breck,"  Nancy 
provoked  with  a  laugh  that  floated  up  even 
to  the  treetops  as  she  again  went  on  her 
way.  The  flash  of  her  violet  eyes  over  her 
shoulder  at  the  tall  young  gentleman  in 
small  clothes  and  ruffled  shirt  was  a  con 
descending  challenge  from  superior  to  in 
ferior. 

"God,  what  a  girl!"  Breckenridge  mut 
tered  under  his  breath  and  did  not  suspect 
that  Clinton  Meriweather,  standing  on  the 
steps  of  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern  near  by, 
had  heard  the  exclamation,  and  jealously 

142 


THE  MATRIX 

echoed  it.  Breck  was  about  to  disregard  her 
advice  and  follow  Nancy,  but  Clinton  was 
before  him. 

"Let  me  carry  that  cloth  for  you,  Nancy," 
Clinton  offered  as  his  stride  only  slightly 
shortened  to  her  step,  for  Nancy  Hanks  was 
very  long  and  strong  limbed  and  minced 
neither  steps  nor  manners. 

"Your  broadcloth  figger  ain't  suited  to 
carry  homespun,  Clint," — Nancy  laughed  as 
she  refused  to  let  him  share  her  burden. 

tl~\  T  '  5) 

Mine  is. 

"You  look  like  a  peach  blossom  in  that 
pink  gown,  Nancy,"  Clinton  laughed  in  an 
swer.  "I  never  saw  such  a  color  except  in 
some  Chinee  vases  at  Uncle  Clint's  in  Phil 
adelphia  that  cost  a  fortune  and  a  half. 
Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"Carded  and  spun  and  wove  it,  and  dyed 
it  with  juice  from  the  polk  berries  you  helped 
me  gather  last  fall.  I  sold  three  bolts  of 
it  to  that  Quaker  merchant  to  carry  back 

143 


THE  MATRIX 

to  Philadelphia  yesterday.  I  was  just 
a-coming  to  bring  the  money  to  you  in  the 
bank,  when  I  had  got  what's  coming  from 
this  from  Giles  Claibourne." 

"You  have  n't  let  me  go  into  the  woods 
with  you  for  three  months,  Nancy,  and  when 
I  go  to  see  you  we  sit  with  Mr.  Berry  and 
the  family.  You  don't  even  come  to  the 
gate  with  me.  Why?"  The  young  banker 
put  his  question  with  a  real  hurt  in  his  keen 
blue  eyes. 

"Want  the  truth,  Clint?"  Nancy  asked, 
looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  without  a 
flicker  in  her  purple  ones. 

"Yes." 

"You  was  kinder  getting  a  habit  of  hold 
ing  hands  with  me,  and  honest,  Clint,  I  was 
afraid  sometime  I  might  get  careless  and 
squeeze  back  and  break  a  finger  bone  for 
you.  If  a  woman's  hand  is  overstrong  a 
man's  is  in  danger  a-holding  of  it."  And 
as  she  spoke  Nancy  paused  on  the  threshold 

144 


THE  MATRIX 

of  Mr.  Claibourne's  general  store  and  this 
time  the  purple  eyes  challenged  an  equal. 

"Damn  you,  Nancy  Hanks,"  Clinton 
stormed,  enraged  at  being  laughed  at  and 
also  at  the  fact  that  the  very  handsome, 
young  and  prosperous  proprietor  of  the  store 
was  hurrying  forward  to  take  the  bolts  of 
cloth  from  Nancy,  which  he  was  sure  she 
would  turn  over  to  him.  The  plum  broad 
cloth  upon  his  own  slim,  straight  back  was 
in  this  instance  to  be  outshone  by  the  but 
ternut  homespun  upon  the  back  of  Nancy's 
avowed  suitor,  which  he  had  bought  straight 
off  her  loom  at  a  fair  price  and  fair  only. 

"Double  same  to  you,  Clint,  and  good 
luck,"  Nancy  answered  his  oath  with  a  flash 
of  her  white  teeth  and  dimples  as  she  turned 
and  greeted  Mr.  Claibourne. 

There  was  nothing  for  the  banker  to  do 
but  tip  his  three-cornered  hat  ceremoniously 
and  betake  himself  to  his  banking.  But  the 
rage  that  had  risen  in  his  heart  had  been  a 


THE  MATRIX 

revealing  flame  and  showed  homespun 
Nancy  enthroned  there.  He  was  aghast. 
And  he  was  rebellious.  Though  only 
twenty-five  years  old,  Clinton  Meriweather's 
position  in  Elizabethtown  was  a  command 
ing  one  and  he  had  made  the  Elizabethtown 
Bank  grow  strong  and  prosperous.  His 
vigorous,  far-seeing  mind  had  great  pride  of 
opinion  and  he  was  accustomed  to  dominate, 
with  courtesy  and  charm  it  is  true,  every 
body  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  The 
men  were  most  of  them  in  his  financial 
clutches  and  both  feared  and  liked  him. 
The  girls  and  young  matrons  of  the  social 
upper  strata  of  the  little  city  spoiled  him 
and  adored  him  and  he  was  accustomed  to 
the  most  vivid  female  adulation.  No 
woman  opposed  his  attentions — except  high- 
headed  Nancy,  who  flouted  him  to  his  face 
while  drawing  him  with  a  charm  which 
burned  in  his  veins  and  ate  into  his  very 
vitals. 

146 


THE  MATRIX 

There  was  in  Nancy  Hanks  a  great  depth 
and  height  and  breadth  of  the  woman  ele 
ment  which  by  nature  attracted  and  fired  the 
brains  of  the  men  with  whom  she  came  in 
contact,  as  well  as  their  hearts.  They 
wanted  to  talk  with  her,  to  argue  with  her, 
and  to  put  an  imprint  on  her  mind.  She 
was  as  a  spark  in  tow  to  a  man  like  Meri- 
weather,  who  regarded  all  women  as  lesser 
human  beings.  His  situation  was  in  a  man 
ner  desperate.  He  had  set  his  ambition  on 
a  marriage  that  would  help  him  build  the 
house  of  Meriweather  as  solidly  as  he  had 
built  the  Elizabethtown  Bank,  and  he  had 
paid  court  to  a  certain  very  elegant  and 
wealthy  damsel  in  his  Uncle  Clinton's  aris 
tocratic  circle  of  friends  in  Philadelphia. 
He  had  visioned  her  at  the  head  of  a  polished 
mahogany  table,  loaded  with  fine  nappery, 
silver  and  china,  set  in  the  dining-room  of 
the  house  about  which  he  was  already  traf 
ficking  with  MacGill  and  Berry.  The 

147 


THE  MATRIX 

vision  was  now  burned  out  by  the  sight  of  a 
girl  in  a  peach-blow  homespun  with  a  bur 
den  upon  her  head  and  a  flame  of  life  in  her 
eyes.  He  was  a  stricken  man  and  he  was 
delirious  with  his  fever. 

In  the  meantime  poor  handsome  Giles 
Claibourne  was  having  a  brief  hour  of  joy. 
Nancy  had  turned  the  cloth  over  to  him,  and 
while  he  was  measuring  it  and  the  payment 
for  it,  he  was  witness  to  a  scene  that  would 
have  set  any  widower's  heart  to  beating. 
Three-year-old  Gilly  Claibourne  had  caught 
sight  of  Nancy  Hanks  from  behind  his 
father's  counter  and  the  reunion  of  the  two 
friends  was  joyous.  Straight  into  her  out 
stretched  arms  the  small  boy  flung  himself, 
and  her  red  rose  mouth  met  his  budding  lips 
in  the  perfect  embrace.  His  head  snuggled 
down  on  to  her  round  breast  and  his  arms 
held  tight  as  she  cradled  him  a  second,  and 
then  flung  him  aloft  far  above  her  head, 

148 


THE  MATRIX 

and  caught  him  as  he  fell  squealing  back  into 
the  cradle. 

"Got  peppermints,  Nancy?"  he  demanded 
as  he  muzzled  at  her  suspiciously. 

"How  '11  you  trade?"  asked  Nancy  with  a 
laugh  as  she  set  him  down  on  his  feet  and 
drew  a  paper  parcel  from  her  pocket,  thus 
putting  her  youthful  lover  on  the  same  busi 
ness  footing  as  that  on  which  his  father 
stood,  and  also  young  Banker  Meriweather. 

"A  bushel  and  a  peck  of  hugs  around  the 
neck,"  the  young  peddler  answered  in  a  for 
mula  she  had  taught  mm,  and  proceeded  to 
administer  his  pay  at  the  same  time  he  be 
gan  the  use  of  his  purchase,  which  gave 
Nancy  a  sticky  dab  on  her  cheek  to  boot. 

"And  there  she  was  down  on  the  floor  in 
the  middle  of  Claibourne's  store,  hugging  his 
offspring  in  a  most  unseemly  manner,"  was 
Miss  Killebrew's  report  to  Dame  Evelyn 
Robinson  at  a  tea  drinking  the  next  day. 

149 


"Poor  Mr.  Claibourne,"  sighed  Mrs.  Rob 
inson,  with  concern  for  her  favorite  mer 
chant's  danger. 

Her  sympathy  was  well  placed. 

"Oh,  Miss  Nancy,  how  can  you  refuse 
us?"  the  father  of  Gilly  was  pleading,  even 
as  he  counted  the  dimes,  dollars  and  pence 
into  the  pink  palm,  whose  life  line  was  dupli 
cated  with  the  sign  that  palmists  say  is  in 
the  palms  of  the  mothers  of  great  men. 

"I  'd  never  refuse  Gilly  anything,"  Nancy 
returned,  as  she  snatched  a  kiss  from  the 
back  of  the  now  sticky  three-year-old  lover's 
neck,  and  escaped  toward  the  door. 

"He  '11  be  out  at  Mr.  Berry's  asking  for 
a  step-mother  by  tomorrow  daylight," 
threatened  the  young  father,  as  Nancy 
stepped  out  into  the  sunshine. 

"Any  man  as  goes  courting  for  another 
is  in  danger.  I  '11  kidnap  him,"  Nancy  an 
swered  the  threat  as  she  swung  out  of  sight. 

The  temperature  of  Mr.  Claibourne's  heart 

150 


THE  MATRIX 

registered  about  the  same  degree  as  Clinton 
Meriweather's  over  in  the  bank,  who  was 
waiting  in  vain  for  Nancy  to  appear  to  de 
posit  in  his  care  the  money  obtained  for  the 
cloth  from  his  rival. 

Nancy  had  an  unusually  large  number  of 
fish  to  fry  that  day.  She  went  on  across 
town  and  turned  off  the  road  into  a  little 
path  that  led  to  a  small  cabin  in  the  clear 
ing.  An  old  crone  sat  by  the  door,  and  a 
helpless  young  woman  lay  on  a  split-rail  bed 
in  the  corner.  It  was  here  that  Elizabeth- 
town's  scandal  was  hiding  itself,  and  Nancy 
Hanks  was  the  only  woman  in  town  brave 
enough  to  seek  its  lair. 

"How  be  you,  Maggie?"  Nancy  ques 
tioned  as  she  bent  tenderly  and  laid  one  of 
her  fine  cool  hands  on  the  other  girl's  hot 
suffering  eyes. 

"My  time  's  come,  Nancy,"  answered  the 
woman,  who  was  about  to  pay  alone  the 
price  of  a  brief  love  shared  with  a  mule-pack 

151 


THE  MATRIX 

merchant,  who  had  gone  on  his  way  over  the 
mountains. 

"Not  until  come  daylight,"  the  old  mid 
wife  took  her  pipe  out  of  her  mouth  to  mum 
ble. 

"Oh,  will  you  come  to  help  me,  Nancy?" 
Maggie  pleaded  wildly. 

"I  '11  be  here.  Come,  throw  a  rock  at  my 
window,  Granny  Betts,  if  it 's  night,"  Nancy 
promised  and  commanded.  "Don't  forgit 
that  no  matter  what  happens  you  '11  have  a 
baby,  Mag,  all  your  own."  The  woman 
flame  in  the  purple  eyes  was  like  a  stimulant 
to  the  suffering  girl,  who  caught  the  spark 
of  ecstasy. 

When  the  next  dawn  came  Nancy  Hanks 
let  go  of  the  girl's  hands  she  had  been  hold 
ing,  while  she  went  down  into  the  great 
shadow  from  which  all  women  retrieve  new 
life,  and  took  a  wee  human  being  into  her 
strong  arms  by  way  of  welcome  into  a  big 
world. 

152 


THE  MATRIX 

It  is  recorded  that  the  mule-merchant  re 
turned,  and  now  a  family  in  Pennsylvania 
boasts  that  "Nancy  Hanks  officiated  at  my 
grandmother's  birth." 

At  the  time,  however,  gossip  in  Elizabeth- 
town  had  it  that  "Nancy  Hanks  was  mixed 
up  in  that  Maggie  Hurt  affair." 

Oh,  big  tender  Nancy! 

On  the  evening  before  that  birth  dawn, 
Nancy  had  finished  up  the  affairs  of  the  tri 
angle  most  satisfactorily,  and  she  was  rest 
ing  from  her  labors  with  great  profundity 
before  old  granny's  pebble  had  been  flung 
to  summon  her  to  the  ceremonial  of  birth. 
And  beside  her  reposed  Nancy  Sparrow, 
smiling  the  soft  smile  of  love's  security. 
Nancy  had  taken  the  young  heart  of  putty 
and  stamped  upon  it  the  crude  image  of 
Charlie  Friend  with  the  old  but  ever  potent 
strategy. 

The  two  Nancys  had  met  at  sundown  at 
the  gate  of  the  home  of  Mr.  Berry. 

153 


THE  MATRIX 

"Nancy,"  said  Nancy  Hanks,  as  she 
slipped  one  of  her  strong  arms  about  the 
weak  little  cousin's  trim  waist,  "I  'm  mighty 
glad  you  are  going  to  have  that  new  cabin 
down  on  the  Creek.  I  wish  it  was  mine.  I 
love  to  live  here  with  Uncle  and  Aunt  Berry, 
but  I  want  my  own  cabin  so  bad  that  if  you 
don't  take  Charlie  quick,  I  '11  set  after  him. 
He  's  nigh  as  good  looking  as  the  cabin." 

"Where  'd  you  see  him?"  asked  little 
cousin  with  a  swift  suspicion  darting  into  her 
shallow  eyes. 

"Oh,  I  was  talkin'  with  him  over  in  Eliz- 
abethtown  a  while.  He  says  it  is  all  fin 
ished  and  ready  to  move  into.  I  asked  him 
all  about  it.  It 's  funny  how  a  new  house 
makes  a  woman  want  a  turkey-tail  duster 
and  a  man."  Nancy  spoke  with  the  most 
interested  unconcern,  but  did  not  fail  to  note 
the  higher  flaming  of  the  suspicion  in  the 
blue  eyes  questioning  hers,  the  flame  almost 
crackling. 

154. 


THE  MATRIX 

There  was  no  woman  in  Elizabethtown, 
high  or  lowly,  who  would  n't  have  been 
frightened  at  the  very  faintest  idea  of  en 
tering  sentimental  competition  with  Nancy 
Hanks. 

The  situation  was  thus  made  ripe  for  huge 
Charlie  to  blunder  into,  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  several  hours  later  down  at  the  Spar 
row  home. 

After  a  good  many  minutes  of  tense  si 
lence,  which  puzzled  and  frightened  him,  he 
awkwardly  floundered  into  the  right  path. 

"Saw  Nancy  Hanks  down  town  today. 
She  's  a  mighty  sprightly  talker." 

"What  did  she  talk  about?" 

"Er — er,"  Charlie  paused,  for  he  knew 
it  would  not  do  to  give  an  account  of  the 
talk  with  Nancy,  in  view  of  the  resolution 
he  had  taken  upon  himself  to  accomplish 
before  the  moon  went  down,  if  he  turned  into 
a  fiery  fluid  doing  it.  "She  talked  mostly 
about  the — the — cabin." 

155 


THE  MATRIX 

His  hesitation  did  the  business  Nancy 
Hanks  had  negotiated  for  him. 

"Whose  cabin?"  Nancy  Sparrow  asked, 
with  a  proprietary  note  in  her  voice  that  was 
unmistakable,  and  which  gave  Charlie  the 
courage  for  the  pioneer  "grab"  prescribed 
by  Nancy  Hanks. 

"Yo'  cabin  and  mine,"  he  whispered 
fiercely  to  the  back  of  Nancy's  neck,  as  he 
came  very  near  incapacitating  her  for  life 
by  cracking  all  of  her  ribs.  Nancy  Spar 
row  was  in  radiant  spirits  as  she  told  Nancy 
Hanks  all  about  it,  staying  at  Uncle  Berry's 
to  sleep  with  Nancy,  so  that  the  confidences 
could  have  a  long  night  session. 

"Yes,  I  think  Saturday  night  will  be  a 
fine  time  to  marry.  After  a  woman  has  shot 
down  a  man  she  oughter  tend  to  him  right 
away,"  Nancy  the  conspirator  had  consented 
with  her  last  waking  thought  until  Granny 
Betts  threw  the  pebble  hours  later. 

The  name  of  Breckenridge  Kyle  had  not 

156 


THE  MATRIX 

been  mentioned  between  them,  and  Nancy 
Hanks  knew  that  once  captured,  Charlie 
Friend  would  know  how  to  take  care  of  his 
own. 

There  are  abundant  records  to  show  that 
the  life  of  Nancy  Hanks  was  not  an  idle  one. 


157 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  ND  while  Nancy  Hanks  was  growing 
*•*•  with  the  growth  of  the  little  border 
town,  what  had  become  of  Thomas  Lincoln 
back  in  the  little  wilderness  settlement  in 
which  she  had  left  him?  How  were  these 
children  of  destiny  to  be  drawn  together 
again? 

"Did  you  see  Tom,  and  when  is  he  com 
ing?"  was  the  question  which  Nancy  put  to 
Elder  Jesse  Head  each  time  he  passed 
through  Elizabethtown  on  his  circuit  rid 
ing  during  all  the  years  that  passed  between 
her  and  the  beloved  Thomas. 

"Tom  's  living  and  will  be  dying  just  in 
the  same  tracks  you  left  him  in,  Nancy,"  the 
Elder  would  answer  with  a  delighted  twinkle 
in  his  shrewd  old  eyes  as  he  beheld  the  growth 

158 


THE  MATRIX 

in  beaut y  and  wisdom  his  young  favorite  had 
made.  "He  always  says,  'Tell  me  'bout 
Xancy.'  And  after  I  get  through  telling 
and  urge  upon  him  the  thought  of  coming 
with  me  and  beholding  he  retires  ten  miles 
in  the  forest  at  the  very  thought  of  facing 
you.  Tom  '11  die  a  tongue-tied  bachelor  un 
less  some  woman  uses  force  on  him." 

"Xo  woman  had  better  use  force  on  Tom 
Lincoln,"  Xancy  Hanks  had  flared  back 
with  her  violet  eyes  in  reply. 

"Well,  since  Sallie  Bush  married  Dan 
Johnson  and  moved  over  here,  I  reckon  Tom 
is  in  no  danger.  Ever  see  Sallie?" 

"I  washed  and  dressed  a  ten-pound  baby 
for  her  last  week,"  laughed  Xancy. 

"Then  you  forgave  her  for  slighting  Tom 
at  love  feast  ten  years  ago?" 

"Xo,  but  a  woman  can't  hold  a  grudge 
against  a  ten-pound  man  baby,  can  she?" 
Xancy  answered. 

"The  good  Lord  fashions  some  women's 

159 


THE  MATRIX 

breasts  and  arms  for  cradle  service  to  the 
offspring  of  other  women  as  well  as  her 
own,  Nancy,  and  you  seem  to  be  one.  I 
want  to  commend  you  fer  standing  by  Mag 
gie." 

"Wait  until  I  get  that  mule-packer  and 
make  a  daddy  outen  him  for  Maggie's  baby, 
then  commend  me,  Elder,"  Nancy  answered. 
"Will  you  tell  Tom  Lincoln  I  say  to  be 
a-coming  over  here  as  he  promised  me  ten 
years  ago?" 

"Yes,  I  '11  tell  him  and  God  bless  you, 
child,  for  a  faithful  and  friendly  heart,"  the 
Elder  answered  as  he  and  Nancy  parted  at 
the  door  of  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern. 

The  ten  years  Tom  Lincoln  and  Jo  Hanks 
had  lived  in  the  parentless  Hanks  cabin 
home  had  passed  without  anything  more 
eventful  than  life  and  death  and  cold  and 
heat  and  hunger  and  love.  William  Hanks 
had  moved  away  with  a  mate  and  left  the 
two  boys  alone,  under  the  eye  of  Mordecai 

160 


THE  MATRIX 

Lincoln  and  stern  Susan,  who  had  been 
somewhat  softened  toward  life  in  general 
and  Tom  in  particular,  when  he  had  made  a 
tiny  coffin  for  her  baby,  who  had  never 
breathed  and  in  his  own  arms  had  shown  it 
to  her  and  borne  it  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
clearing  and  buried  it  where  she  could  look 
after  the  grave  herself.  Big  Mordecai  had 
not  the  skill  to  fashion  so  tiny  and  lovely  a 
thing  as  Tom  had  made  of  the  little  cedar 
box.  Nobody  could  then  gauge  the  huge 
reservoir  of  tenderness  that  lay  under  the 
nature  of  the  great,  uncouth  young  man's 
heart,  but  a  hundred  years  later  men  under 
stood  him  better. 

The  bachelor  establishment  of  Tom  and 
Jo  was  cared  for  by  the  Runt,  to  whom  Tom 
paid  a  wage  of  two  bits  a  week,  which  he  con 
sidered  ample  to  define  their  relation  as  em 
ployer  and  employee,  rather  than  that  of 
master  and  slave.  No  papers  up  to  that 
time  had  ever  been  made  out  concerning  the 

161 


THE  MATRIX 

freedom  of  the  Runt,  and  the  incident  of  the 
stove-wood,  the  Sallie  Bush  singing  book 
and  the  love  feast  were  forgotten  by  all  con 
cerned,  except  that  the  heart  of  Tom  Lin 
coln  had  freed  his  slave  and  was  clean  and 
at  rest  on  the  subject. 

And  the  years  had  brought  very  little  in 
the  way  of  worldly  goods  to  Tom  Lincoln. 
For  his  work  he  was  poorly  paid  and  as  he 
never  made  any  point  of  enforcing  his  claims 
much  of  the  time  he  was  not  paid  at  all. 
Mordecai  Lincoln  had  considered  his  elder 
son's  claim  to  all  the  Lincoln  property, 
landed  and  personal,  as  beyond  dispute,  and 
Tom  was  not  the  person  to  contest  a  claim. 
He  never  even  gave  a  thought  to  his  rights  to 
patrimony  but  did  the  work  in  hand,  and 
haunted  his  beloved  forests,  dreaming  great 
dreams  we  must  believe,  from  his  final  re 
sults.  The  dreams  of  a  man  slow  of  growth, 
silent  and  tender,  are  apt  to  be  potent.  He 
was  nearly  thirty  years  old,  nearing  the  age 

162 


THE  MATRIX 

at  which  the  great-hearted  Carpenter  put 
aside  His  tools  and  went  forth  to  save  man 
kind,  when  His  call  came. 

What  Thomas  took  to  be  a  call  of  need 
from  Nancy  Hanks,  made  him  take  his  tools 
under  his  arms  and  go  out  in  Nancy's  world 
to  answer,  with  Runt  the  shadow  folowing 
him.  And  he  found  her  at  a  crossing  of 
roads. 

No  matter  how  a  woman  may  claim,  de 
clare  and  affirm  her  freedom,  there  are 
snares  set  for  her  at  the  meeting  of  many 
paths,  and  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  keep 
out  of  them  all.  The  keen  brain  of  Clinton 
Meriweather,  banker,  was  at  work  on  the 
mechanism  of  a  trap  for  Nancy  Hanks,  and 
when  it  was  finished  he  was  himself  caught. 

For  many  days  after,  the  revelation  of 
Nancy  securely  lodged  in  his  heart,  he  shut 
the  door  of  that  organ  and  went  about  his 
business,  determined  to  empty  the  shrine  by 
ignoring  it.  Pie  found  that  impossible,  for 

163 


THE  MATRIX 

the  more  his  thoughts  ignored  Nancy  and 
engrossed  themselves  in  the  reckonings  of 
barter  and  sale,  the  more  his  heart  thirsted 
for  her.  The  night  of  the  full  moon  in 
April  was  his  undoing. 

Nancy  had  been  down  to  see  Charlie 
Friend  and  the  infatuated  wife  she  had 
helped  him  obtain,  and  had  started  home 
long  enough  before  sundown  to  have  reached 
there  before  moon-up,  but  the  budding 
spring  woods  were  too  much  for  Nancj^ 
Hanks  and  she  began  to  loiter  and  love  the 
curling,  budding,  unspringing,  blushing, 
perfuming  spring  all  around  h'er.  She 
greeted  the  little  white  violets  with  rapture, 
she  stepped  carefully  to  keep  from  break 
ing  the  tall  white  Indian  pipes,  and  she 
gathered  the  bronze  trillium  into  a  huge 
bunch  for  drying  for  one  of  her  medicinal 
mixtures,  which  she  slung  over  her  shoulder 
on  a  stout  hickory  stick  she  had  picked  up  for 
a  whip  stock.  Just  as  she  was  on  the  edge 

164- 


THE  MATRIX 

of  the  clearing  she  stopped  to  listen,  en 
tranced  to  a  mocking  bird  courtship,  in 
which  the  feathered  suitor  was  risking  burst 
ing  his  little  heart  to  gain  an  answering 
cheep  from  a  white  blossoming  dogswood 
bough  just  below  the  pink-budded  maple 
Mmb  on  which  he  tilted  and  sang.  The 
final  red  gold  rays  of  the  sun  were  being 
sifted  out  of  the  first  beams  of  the  full  moon 
and  the  opal  glow  wrapped  Nancy  around 
like  the  veil  of  a  bride.  When  she  turned 
from  the  last  operatic  flight  of  the  small 
feathered  lover,  she  turned  into  the  arms  of 
Clinton  Meriweather,  which  closed  on  her 
hungrily. 

"Nancy,  Nancy  Hanks,"  he  murmured,  as 
he  pressed  her  lithe,  strong  body  to  his  and 
tried  to  find  her  lips  with  his  own.  And  the 
riot  of  youth  in  his  veins  called  to  the  youth 
in  hers  as  she  yielded  to  his  pressure  and 
raised  her  face  to  his  hunting.  What 
Nancy  Hanks  saw  in  the  eyes  of  Clinton 

165 


Meriweather  made  her  draw  away  from  him 
and  lay  her  hand  on  his  breast  to  hold  him 
back  from  her. 

"Don't,  Clint,  don't,"  she  commanded, 
trying  to  draw  completely  out  of  his  arms. 

But  she  was  trying  to  stay  a  flood  with  a 
woman's  words,  and  his  response  to  her  sharp 
command,  in  which  there  was  also  appeal, 
was  to  force  down  her  arm  with  his  left, 
while  his  right  was  sweeping  her  to  him. 
What  the  polished  man  of  the  world  in 
tended  to  do  to  the  homespun  woman  no 
body  ever  knew  but  himself,  for  the  stout 
hickory  stick  cut  a  gash  across  his  blond 
head  and  felled  him  like  a  slaughtered  ox. 
Nancy  Hanks  could  defend  herself. 

It  just  happened  that  Dan  Mitchell  and 
Sam  Hardy  were  coming  out  of  the  wood 
with  sacks  of  sassafras  roots  for  the  cattle 
on  their  backs,  and  to  Nancy's  call  their  re 
sponse  was  swift. 

"Ruffled  hound!     Hope  you  killed  him," 

166 


THE  MATRIX 

said  Dan,  as  he  put  his  cowhide  boot  in  un 
der  the  broadcloth-covered  side  of  the  pros 
trated  gentleman  and  turned  him  on  his 
back. 

"Oh,  no,  Dan!"  exclaimed  Nancy,  as  she 
fell  on  her  knees  beside  her  prostrate  suitor, 
her  anger  spent  by  the  blow,  and  anxiety 
rising  in  its  stead. 

"He  did  n't  do  you  a  harm,  did  he, 
Nancy?"  asked  Dan  in  a  quiet  voice,  but 
with  the  intent  to  kill  in  his  eyes,  as  he  de 
manded  the  truth  from  his  foster  sister. 

"No,  Dan,  no,"  Nancy  answered,  as  she 
looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"Well,  then  he  can  live  if  he  can,"  Dan 
decreed,  as  he  stooped  down  to  see  just 
what  damage  she  had  done.  "That  knock 
is  no  more  than  he  deserved  and  maybe  it 
will  let  some  sense  into  his  gallivanting 
head.  Put  down  your  pack,  Sam,  and  let 's 
carry  him  to  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern, 
where  he  belongs."  With  which  both  men 
167 


THE  MATRIX 

deposited   their   burdens   of   sassafras   and 
lifted  a  new  and  bloody  one. 

"You  go  on  home,  Nancy,  and  nobody 
won't  know  the  difference,"  Dan  com 
manded,  with  more  eye  to  the  conventions 
than  Nancy,  who  had  lifted  the  bleeding 
head  on  her  arm  as  the  two  men  started  to 
go  with  their  burden. 

"And  let  him  bleed  to  death?  No!"  an 
swered  Nancy  as  the  little  procession  started, 
which  by  the  time  it  had  reached  its  des 
tination,  had  started  a  scandal  in  Elizabeth- 
town  which  smoulders  to  this  day. 

"He  was  forcing  Nancy  and  she  hit  him," 
was  the  answer  given  by  crude  Dan  right 
and  left  to  the  questioning  crowd  that  fol 
lowed  them.  Even  at  that  trying  moment 
the  head  of  Nancy  Hanks  was  not  lowered 
a  fraction  of  an  inch,  and  she  was  more  oc 
cupied  with  staunching  the  flow  of  blood, 
which  dyed  crimson  the  breast  and  front  and 
sleeve  of  her  homespun  dress,  than  with  pub- 
168 


THE  MATRIX 

lie  opinion,  then  in  the  forming  against  her. 
Though  to  be  accurate,  most  of  the  ques 
tioners  turned  from  the  injured  banker 
with  the  angry  and  unsympathetic  remark : 
"Served  him  right,  Nancy  Hanks!" 
And  Nancy's  conduct  through  the  whole 
affair  was  entirely  true  to  her  character  as 
a  child  of  nature.  When  the  procession 
reached  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern,  upon 
whose  ground  and  only  floor  were  situated 
the  two  large  bachelor  rooms  of  the  banker, 
Nancy  called  for  linen,  turpentine  and  hot 
water,  and  proceeded  to  bathe  and  cleanse 
the  wound  she  had  administered,  while  peo 
ple  were  looking  right  and  left  for  old  Dr. 
Cummins,  who  wras  as  that  moment  up  over 
the  Means  Feed  and  Harness  Shop,  deep  in 
a  game  with  a  jug  of  Jamaica  rum  and  ob 
livious  to  the  spectacular  need  of  his  serv 
ices. 

After  Nancy  had  succeeded  in  drawing 
the  gap  together  with  a  long  needle,  which 

169 


THE  MATRIX 

she  had  bent  and  heated  in  a  flame,  she  was 
proceeding  to  bathe  the  gore  from  the  pal 
lid  face,  when  the  famous  scene  with  Dame 
Evelyn  Robinson  ensued  of  which  the  fol 
lowing  is  a  well  constructed  account. 

The  very  much  flustered  and  bewildered 
matron  arrived  at  the  door  in  high  color  and 
great  indignation  at  the  details  which  had 
been  carried  to  her  of  the  outrage  upon  this 
bachelor  member  of  her  circle  of  friends. 
Duly  escorted  by  her  husband,  she  had  has 
tened  to  the  scene  as  soon  as  she  had  ac 
quired  his  suitable  escort  and  accomplished 
a  suitable  toilet,  during  which  time  her  pros 
trated  friend  might  have  bled  to  death,  if 
the  woman  in  the  case  had  regarded  the 
questions  of  convention  or  costume. 

"Stand  aside,  girl,  and  allow  Mr.  Meri- 
weather's  friends  access  to  him,"  she  com 
manded,  as  she  fairly  swept  her  draperies 
close  to  her  as  if  to  keep  them  from  defile 
ment. 

170 


THE  MATRIX 

"Come,  keep  the  hot  towel  to  the  wound, 
while  I  get  the  blood  offen  him,"  Nancy  an 
swered,  so  intent  upon  her  ministrations  that 
she  failed  to  notice  the  belligerency  directed 
against  her.  As  she  spoke,  she  moved  aside 
so  that  Dame  Robinson  could  get  a  full  view 
of  the  bloody  man,  the  bloody  pillow  and  her 
own  bloody  dress,  for  upon  the  white  cotton 
of  her  homespun  the  gore  was  doubly  ter 
rible. 

Dame  Robinson,  true  to  form,  quietly  and 
artistically  swooned. 

"And  Evelyn  Robinson's  own  ma  shot  a 
catamount  that  was  making  off  with  a 
chicken  and  skun  -him  'fore  her  man  got 
home,"  old  Mr.  Beckett,  the  keeper  of  the 
Elizabethtown  Tavern,  muttered  to  himself 
sadly,  after  he  had  helped  the  abashed  hus 
band  cart  the  useless  woman  away  in  her 
carriage  with  its  high  stepping  bays. 

It  was  after  midnight  before  Nancy 
Hanks  had  been  willing  to  leave  her  patient 
171 


THE  MATRIX 

with  Granny  Belts,  who  had  come  with  bas 
ket  and  snuff  stick  to  be  installed  as  watcher 
nurse,  and  by  six  o'clock  the  next  morning 
she  was  back  to  see  to  her  bandaging,  for  she 
was  accustomed  to  look  after  the  odds  and 
ends  of  surgery  for  Doctor  Cummins  dur 
ing  his  frequent  rum  sieges.  That  day  the 
whole  of  Elizabethtown  whirled  and  raged 
with  scandal,  and  probably  brave  Nancy, 
fighting  with  all  her  skill  to  keep  down  the 
fever  of  the  patient,  and  keep  the  wound  in 
a  condition  for  healing,  was  the  only  inhabi 
tant  who  was  calm  about  the  matter. 

The  sick  room  would  have  been  overrun 
to  the  patient's  great  hurt  if  Nancy  had  not 
made  a  plea  for  him  to  the  grim  old  tavern 
keeper. 

"Just  keep  folks  away  until  the  fever  goes 
and  it  begins  to  heal,  and  he  gets  his  senses," 
she  begged. 

"I'll  do  that  thing,"  old  Eph  Beckett 
promised  and  that  promise  he  grimly  kept. 

172 


THE  MATRIX 

And  while  Nancy  fought  for  the  very  life 
of  the  man  she  had  prostrated,  his  near  and 
dear  friends  lacerated  and  bruised  her  rep 
utation  until  it  was  as  black  and  blue  as  the 
area  of  his  wound.  Those  with  a  sense  of 
humor,  laughed  over  the  account  of  Dame 
Robinson's  assault  and  swoon,  and  the 
knowledge  that  this  was  so  added  fuel  to  her 
flames  of  anger.  She  preened  herself  and 
bided  her  time. 

It  came  the  first  day  upon  which  the  pa 
tient  found  himself  able  to  be  raised  on  a 
pillow  and  take  broth  from  a  bowl  held  by 
Nancy.  His  eyes  had  been  following  her 
for  several  days,  but  she  had  hushed  him  with 
authority  whenever  he  had  tried  to  speak. 
Today  his  strength  was  enough  to  assert 
itself. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Nancy," 

he  said,  as  he  laid  his  bandaged  head  back 

on  the  pillow  with  only  a  fraction  of  the 

care  he  had  been  using  in  so  disposing  it, 

173 


THE  MATRIX 

which  betokened  its  satisfactory  degree  of 
healing. 

"Ask  Granny  Betts  for  it,"  Nancy  an 
swered  him  quickly,  and  as  she  spoke  she 
picked  up  a  bundle  over  by  the  door  and 
walked  out  of  the  room  in  the  most  casual 
manner,  and  not  with  the  air  of  shaking  the 
dust  from  her  feet. 

It  was  in  the  fret  of  this  betrayal  that 
Dame  Robinson  found  the  banker  an  hour 
later,  and  it  is  to  the  credit  of  his  self-con 
trol  that  he  kept  calm  and  let  her  babble  on 
until  he  had  extracted  the  entire  situation 
from  her. 

"Of  course  as  none  of  us  were  your  im 
mediate  family,  it  was  impossible  for  us  to 
force  this  girl  to  leave  your  rooms,  Clinton," 
she  was  rounding  out  her  tale  by  saying. 

"Especially  as  none  of  my  friends  were 
quite  qualified  to  take  her  place,"  he  added 
in  the  gentlest  of  voices.  "Located  where 
174 


it  was,  the  wound  was  rather  dangerous,  with 
Cummins  in  delirium  tremens." 

"Well,  since  she  struck  you  while  you 
were—  '  here  Mrs.  Robinson  paused  in  a 
veritable  panic  as  she  had  apparently  put 
her  foot  into  her  own  words. 

"While  I  was  asking  her  to  marry  me. 
She  was  refusing  me  with  vigor,"  Clinton 
Meriweather,  banker,  remarked  quietly  with 
his  keen  and  very  beautiful  blue  eyes  hold 
ing  those  of  Dame  Robinson's  sternly. 
The  banker  was  proving  himself  a  gallant 
gentleman  when  under  test. 

"Mar — ry  you?"  Dame  Robinson  fairly 
gasped. 

"When  I  get  her  answer,  I  '11  tell  my 
friends,  favorable  or  unfavorable,"  the 
banker  continued.  "I  '11  surely  tell  you  and 
Mr.  Robinson  among  the  first  for  my  close 
association  in  business  with  him  makes  me 
sure  of  his  sympathy,  whichever  way  my 
175 


THE  MATRIX 

luck  runs."  Banker  Meriweather  knew 
that  Dame  Robinson  knew  that  the  Eliza- 
bethtown  Bank  was  financing  her  husband's 
largest  cotton  deal  for  the  season,  and  he 
used  that  knowledge  adroitly. 

Dame  Robinson  in  her  velour  silk  and 
lace  fled  the  situation  and  left  it  to  Granny 
Betts. 

When  Nancy  failed  to  return  to  her  pa 
tient  for  twenty-four  hours,  he  fretted  him 
self  into  a  fever  and  granny  had  to  appeal 
to  her.  She  came  fluttering  back  to  her 
nursling  on  swift  wings. 

Nancy  Hanks  had  drawn  back  from  the 
fierce  arms  of  passion,  but  she  was  utterly  in 
capable  of  drawing  away  from  weak  upheld 
arms  of  adoration,  and  she  soothed  the  pale 
scarred  head  against  her  fragrant  pink 
cheek. 

"I  'm  sorry,  Nancy." 

"I  'm  sorry,  too." 

They  were  young  and  it  was  May  day. 
176 


"Will  you  marry  me,  Nancy?" 

There  was  no  affirmative  bond  given  to 
that  question  by  Nancy  Hanks,  only  the 
tenderness  that  it  was  her  nature  to  give  to 
weakness.  Then  she  fled  the  sick  room, 
never  to  return. 

Through  the  mediums  of  the  tongues  of 
Granny  Betts,  who  had  been  present  at  the 
entire  interview,  and  Dame  Evelyn  Robin 
son,  it  became  known  that  Nancy  Hanks  had 
been  "asked"  by  Banker  Clinton  Meri- 
weather  and  that  his  fate  was  still  in  the 
balance  of  her  shapely  hands.  The  next 
ten  days  were  the  most  exciting  that  Eliza- 
bethtown  had  experienced  since  the  last  In 
dian  raid  and  the  strife  was  civil  warfare. 
All  the  homespun  gentry  guffawred  over  the 
fact  that  Nancy  had  "lammed"  the  young 
plutocrat,  but  they  liked  him  and  in  the  main 
were  for  him  and  his  suit,  now  that  they  un 
derstood  it  to  be  a  legitimate  one. 

"Larruping  a  husband  proper  before  she 
177 


THE  MATRIX 

gets  him  is  a  mighty  good  way  for  a  woman 
to  start  housekeeping,"  Mr.  Sid  Sanders, 
the  stage  driver  to  and  from  Louisville,  re 
marked.  "Now  you  've  done  put  your 
mark  on  the  banker  you  better  marry  him, 
Nancy." 

"Marrying  is  putting  a  string  around  a 
woman's  wrists  that  keeps  her  from  larrup 
ing  a  husband  after  she  gets  him,  Uncle  Sid," 
answered  Nancy  with  a  laugh. 

"Yaas,  but  the  bonds  of  matrimony  is 
mostly  made  of  apron  strings,"  was  Uncle 
Sid's  retort  as  he  started  on  his  journey. 


178 


CHAPTER  IX 

AND  while  the  friends  of  Nancy  laughed 
over  her  escapade  and  kept  up  a  run 
ning  fire  of  curiosity  as  to  what  her  final 
answer  to  her  most  spectacular  wooing  was 
to  be,  the  broadcloth  circle  in  which  Clinton 
Meriweather  had  his  social  being  waxed  in 
dignant  but  prudent.  A  few  words  from 
the  masculine  heads  of  the  families  involved 
in  various  banking  schemes  as  to  the  advis 
ability  of  "waiting  to  see  which  way  the  cat 
jumped,"  in  the  matter  of  the  banker's  fate, 
kept  the  feminine  riot  at  the  point  of  smoul 
dering.  And  women  are  not  at  all  behind 
men  in  worldly  judgment,  and  the  future 
mistress  of  the  handsomest  house  ever  built 
in  the  township,  whose  second  story  was  be 
ing  laid  in  purple  brick  from  the  energetic 
179 


THE  MATRIX 

MacGill  and  Berry  firm,  would  have  to  be 
reckoned  with. 

"After  all  the  girl  is  very  beautiful  and 
men  will  be  men,"  sighed  Dame  Evelyn  Rob 
inson  as  she  looked  contentedly  at  young 
Jean,  over  whose  head  drooped  that  of  the 
rescued  Breckenridge  Kyle,  as  they  sat  to 
gether  before  the  spinnet  at  the  other  end 
of  the  long  parlor. 

"I  'm  glad  he  '11  get  on  his  feet  and  out 
tomorrow,  so  as  to  hunt  her  down,"  chuc 
kled  Mr.  Gideon  Robinson.  "I  bet  Tom 
Sparrow  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  she  flouts 
him  after  all." 

And  the  wager  on  the  subject  between 
Mr.  Robinson  and  Tom  Sparrow  was  not 
the  only  one  laid  in  Elizabethtown  as  to 
whether  or  not  Nancy  Hanks  would  marry 
the  banker  she  had  assaulted.  By  Satur 
day  afternoon,  May  fifteenth,  the  tension 
had  become  like  unto  that  out  at  the  trotting 
track,  which  had  been  laid  down  two  years 

180 


THE  MATRIX 

before,  where  roan  two-year-olds  could  race 
bays  of  like  years. 

And  it  was  upon  that  date  that  the  young 
banker  got  into  his  small  clothes  and  upon 
his  feet  again.  Looking  very  pale  and  in 
terest-inspiring,  with  the  scar  across  his  tem 
ple,  he  stood  taking  the  air  upon  the  steps 
of  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern,  and  also  tak 
ing  the  congratulations  of  his  friends,  mas 
culine  and  feminine,  who  began  to  congre 
gate  around  him.  Dame  Evelyn  stood  be 
side  him,  while  Jean  and  Breckenridge  had 
paused  to  greet  him  and  chaff  with  Milly 
Hume,  Buford  Clark  and  several  more 
young  bloods  with  elaborately  dimity-clad 
girls  on  their  arms.  And  if  the  world  of 
fashion  was  well  represented  on  the  Square, 
so  also  was  the  world  of  homespun.  Aunt 
Lucy  Berry  and  Aunt  Elizabeth  Sparrow 
were  down  with  Mrs.  Sam  Hardstay,  trad 
ing  at  the  Clairbourne  store,  and  Mrs.  Lytsie 
and  Mrs.  Hull  were  on  the  same  errand, 

181 


THE  MATRIX 

having  their  daughters  with  them.  In  fact 
representative  Elizabethtown  was  congre 
gated  when  Nancy  Hanks  and  Mrs.  Charlie 
Friend  turned  into  the  Square  at  the  corner 
on  which  the  Elizabethtown  Tavern  stood, 
thus  reaching  the  very  center  of  the  stage 
before  they  knew  they  had  made  their  en 
trance. 

When  Nancy  Hanks  suddenly  looked  up 
to  see  Clinton  Meriweather,  with  her  and  his 
world  as  a  background,  gazing  down  at  her 
with  his  heart  in  his  handsome  eyes,  the  mo 
ment  was,  to  say  the  least,  dramatic. 

For  a  long  moment  they  stood  taking  each 
other's  measure,  and  who  shall  say  what  the 
result  of  their  regard  would  have  been,  if 
Thomas  Lincoln  had  n't  walked  from  out 
the  forest,  around  the  corner  and  stopped 
ten  paces  from  Nancy,  his  eyes  on  her  face 
and  the  rest  of  the  world  outside  of  the  range 
of  his  consciousness. 

Even  in  the  group  of  large  pioneer  men 

182 


he  loomed  tall  and  broad.  His  deerskin 
trousers  were  stuffed  into  rawhide  boots  and 
girted  in  the  one  white  shirt  he  had  ever 
possessed,  which  Nancy  had  made  for  him, 
and  which  had  been  a  cherished  treasure. 
It  was  open  away  from  his  brawny  throat 
as  usual,  and  upon  the  shock  of  black  hair, 
stiff  from  a  ten  years'  lack  of  greasing,  was 
a  coonskin  cap,  from  which  dangled  behind 
the  long  bushy  tail  of  the  animal.  In  the 
hollow  of  one  arm  rested  his  rifle  and  his 
other  balanced  his  bundle  of  carpenter's 
tools,  wrapped  in  his  leathern  apron,  on  his 
broad  shoulder.  On  his  square- jawed,  clean- 
cut  face  there  was  the  quiet  of  the  wilder 
ness,  until  his  dark  eyes  focused  themselves 
on  Nancy,  as  she  stood  poised  towards  him 
with  a  flame  of  delight  in  her  black-rimmed 
purple  eyes. 

"Nancy,"  he  said  as  a  great,  hungry  smile 
spread  all  over  his  somber,  still  face. 
"Nancy,  Nancy!" 

183 


THE  MATRIX 

"Tom,  oh,  Tom,"  was  Nancy's  answer 
with  the  lilt  of  the  mocking  bird  in  her  white 
throat,  as  she  flew  to  him  and  clung  to  his 
arm  and  the  old  gun. 

With  that  cry  Clinton  Meriweather  was 
answered,  only  at  the  moment  nobody  knew 
it.  They  might  have  surmised  it  by  the  way 
all  thought  of  the  banker,  whom  she  had 
been  just  about  to  greet  in  the  sight  of  the 
populace,  passed  from  her  consciousness  as 
she  drew  the  burly  woodsman,  the  like  of 
whom  Elizabethtown  had  not  seen  in  five 
years,  across  the  street  to  the  front  of  the 
Claibourne  store,  where  her  aunts  stood. 
These  relatives  had  noted  the  whole  scene 
and  their  greeting  to  the  intruder  was  not 
overly  cordial. 

In  the  meantime  Clinton  Meriweather's 
world  had  closed  around  him,  hopeful  that 
the  crisis  was  passed,  and  flocked  into  the 
tavern  to  drink  tea  with  him. 

184 


THE  MATRIX 

"When  '11  I  send  for  the  tobacco,  Brother 
Sparrow?"  questioned  Mr.  Robinson,  as  he 
and  Sparrow  were  watering  rum  together  at 
the  tavern  bar  out  of  sight  of  the  tea  party. 

"Oh,  shoo,  Nancy  was  jest  upsot  by  the 
crowd  and  seeing  Tom,  who  was  a  brother 
to  her  'fore  her  folks  died.  Give  a  man  a 
courting  chanst,  can't  you?"  Thus  Tom 
Sparrow  put  off  the  banker. 

There  were  more  events  crowded  into  the 
first  hours  of  Thomas  Lincoln's  residence  in 
Elizabethtown  than  had  transpired  in  all  of 
his  twenty-eight  years  put  together,  or  so  it 
seemed  to  him,  and  through  it  all  he  was 
actively  conscious  only  of  Nancy  Hanks. 

"Well,  well,  Thomas,  how  you  have 
grown,"  remarked  Uncle  Berry,  as  he  pushed 
his  chair  back  from  the  supper  table  and  took 
out  the  gold  snuff  box  and  refreshed  himself, 
brushing  a  fleck  from  a  fine  ruffle  Nancy  had 
put  upon  his  shirt  front  as  a  badge  of  his  ex- 

185 


THE  MATRIX 

panding  prosperity.  "And  you  're  wel 
come,  my  boy,  mighty  welcome,  as  you  may 
have  guessed  from  Nancy's  face." 

"Nancy  's  growed  too,"  was  Thomas'  bril 
liant  remark,  as  he  smiled  a  smile  as  full  of 
pride  over  Nancy's  beauty  as  if  he  had  pro 
duced  it,  though  in  fact  his  arrival  had  added 
to  it  no  little. 

"Young  men  had  better  walk  respectful 
before  Nancy,  for  she  has  got  a  powerful 
grip  on  a  hickory  stick  and—  '  Mr.  Berry 
was  saying  to  Nancy's  vast  confusion,  when 
Ned  Berry  cut  into  the  conversation  with 
practical  intent. 

"Say,  Tom,  I  can  put  you  to  work  to 
morrow  on  the  Meriweather  house  at  a  good 
wage,"  he  said  eagerly.  "We  're  mightily 
in  need  of  the  fancy  work  you  and  Jo  was 
learning  when  I  was  over  to  Lincoln  Set 
tlement  last  year." 

"It  '11  be  a  fitting  thing  for  Tom  to  get 
here  in  time  to  put  a  lick  or  two  on  Nancy's 

186 


THE  MATRIX 

house,"  remarked  Uncle  Tom  Sparrow,  who 
had  come  to  greet  his  nephew,  thus  trying 
cannily  to  get  a  statement  of  intentions  from 
Nancy,  by  which  he  could  settle  his  wager. 

Xancy's  answer  was  to  rise  to  her  feet 
without  a  glance  in  his  direction. 

"Let 's  go  out  in  the  woods  before  it  is 
plum  dark,  Tom,"  she  said.  "I  suspect 
Piedy  of  a  new  calf  and  I  want  to  find  her 
and  house  her  tonight.  The  calf  might  be 
weak  and  make  bear  bait." 

"Don't  think  she  's  got  any  notion  of  flout 
ing  Meriweather,  do  you,  Brother  Berry, 
drat  the  girl?  "  Tom  Sparrow  inquired  anx 
iously  after  Tom  and  Xancy  had  gone. 

"I  consider  speculating  on  courting  con 
niptions  a  waste  of  time,  Brother  Sparrow," 
Mr.  Berry  answered  sagely. 

"Maybe  Tom  Lincoln  will  put  a  spoke  in 
that  wheel,"  spoke  up  Aunt  Lucy  from  the 
head  of  the  table,  upon  which  she  was  rest 
ing  her  elbows  before  beginning  to  clear  up 
187 


THE  MATRIX 

the  debris.  There  has  not  been  invented 
any  better  detecter  of  love's  vagaries  than  a 
woman's  intuition. 

"Shoo,  Nancy  would  n't  look  at  a  shift 
less  fellow  like  Tom,  with  no  more  than  a 
shirt  to  his  back,"  laughed  Mr.  Sparrow. 
"I  reckon  my  tobacco  is  safe." 

Fifteen  nights  had  the  old  moon,  who  had 
looked  down  upon  the  wooings  of  count 
less  generations  of  man  and  woman  kind, 
risen  over  the  tree-tops  in  the  forest  sur 
rounding  Elizabethtown  since  Clinton 
Meriweather  had  met  Nancy  Hanks  under 
the  budding  boughs  of  early  May  and  at 
tempted  to  seize  her  in  rough  hadns.  Later, 
each  night,  had  it  shone  down  upon  the  flow 
ering  and  sprouting  and  now  it  only  glanced 
in  toward  morning,  leaving  the  early  watch 
to  the  mass  of  stars,  which  seemed  to  Tom 
and  Nancy  to  swarm  just  above  the  tree- 
tops  as  they  walked  out  under  them  in  the 
fading  twilight.  The  search  for  the  calf 

188 


THE  MATRIX 

was  forgotten  and  they  sat  side  by  side  upon 
the  trunk  of  a  tree  Ned  had  felled  the  week 
before,  to  use  in  timbering  the  fine  Meri- 
weather  house,  being  built  for  Nancy. 

Tom's  face  was  lifted  to  the  stars  and 
Nancy  could  see  that  his  lips  were  moving 
in  the  dusk  and  his  face  was  solemn  and  still. 

"What  made  you  come  at  last,  Tom?"  she 
asked,  and  there  was  the  wooing  note  in  her 
throat  that  had  been  in  the  cheep  which  had 
answered  the  mocking  bird  lover's  demand. 

"Word  came  to  me,  Nancy,  by  a  trader, 
that  a  man  had  tried  to  force  you,  and  I 
greased  my  gun  and  come  to  kill  him,"  was 
the  quiet  answer  in  Tom's  deep  voice. 
"I  'm  just  saying  thanky  to  God  I  find  you 
safe,  honey  bird."  There  was  the  croon  in 
his  voice  which  had  stilled  Nancy's  five-year- 
old  fears,  and  now  it  fell  into  her  heart  like 
the  echo  of  one  of  its  own  throbs,  which  were 
rocking  her  round  breasts  high  and  low. 

"He  did  n't  do  nothing  to  me,  Tom,  I  just 

189 


THE  MATRIX 

did  n't — did  n't  want  him,"  Nancy  said  after 
a  minute's  stillness. 

Then  they  turned  to  each  other,  moved  by 
one  motif — Nancy  was  crushed  in  Thomas 
Lincoln's  strong  arms  and  he  cradled  her 
on  his  breast  with  a  tenderness  she  had  long 
known,  and  for  which  she  now  knew  her 
woman's  soul  had  waited.  Her  heart  beat 
on  his  with  the  great,  slow,  strong  pulses  of 
perfect  mating,  and  her  red  lips  drank  in 
his  love  like  a  chalice  takes  a  sacred  wine  of 
life. 

"Oh,  Nancy,  I  ain't  fittin'  for  you,"  was 
his  first  cry  after  the  fusion. 

"Nobody  but  you,  Tom,  never,"  was  her 
steadfast  answer,  as  she  drew  his  cheek  down 
and  pressed  it  against  her  breast. 

"Nobody  but  you,  Nancy,"  he  ratified. 

"Don't  you  never  cut  and  grease  your 
hair,  since  I  left  you,  Tom?"  she  laughed  as 
she  sobbed,  looking  down  into  the  solemn 
gray  eyes  raised  to  hers,  thus  breaking  a  ten- 

190 


THE  MATRIX 

sion  which  the  watchful  stars  must  have  felt, 
so  potent  was  it  to  become  in  the  destiny  of 
one  of  their  kindred  worlds. 

His  answer  was  the  first  audible  laugh 
that  Thomas  Lincoln  had  ever  given  forth 
as  he  raised  his  head  from  her  breast,  and 
again  took  her  into  her  old,  accustomed 
cradle  of  his  arms. 

"Sure  you  '11  be  able  to  trim  me  up  into  a 
husband,  Nancy?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  sure,"  answered  Nancy  with  entire 
confidence,  as  she  ran  her  capable  hand  over 
the  beloved  black  shock.  "Saturday  week 
will  be  June  12th,  and  that  will  do,"  she  de 
cided,  after  rapidly  counting  her  days. 

Tom's  answer  was  his  cheek  laid  gently 
against  hers. 

"Now  let 's  talk,"  Nancy  said,  with  a 
thirst  in  her  voice  as  if  she  had  for  many 
years  been  silent. 

Late  into  the  fragrant  night  hours  they 
questioned  and  answered,  and  all  marauders 

191 


THE  MATRIX 

were  turned  aside  from  their  communion. 
The  crickets  and  the  katydids  and  the  tree 
toads  muted  their  burr  to  a  mere  chorus  to 
the  soft  duet  of  their  happy  voices.  The 
nesting  birds  above  their  heads  chirped  a 
sleepy  commendation  to  the  human  nest- 
planning  going  on  below  them,  and  fluffed 
drowsy  wings  above  the  young  lives  they 
were  hovering. 

"Charlie  and  Ned  will  help  raise  us  a 
cabin  down  on  the  creek,  near  Charlie's,  in  a 
few  days.  You  can  make  the  furniture  lit 
tle  by  little,"  Nancy  planned  with  her  slim 
fingers  molded  into  his  huge  hand  by  a 
pressure  which  would  have  hurt  a  fine  lady, 
but  which  the  strength  in  her  own  gave  back 
in  equal  measure. 

"I  've  got  the  money  to  buy  a  bit  of  land. 
Here  it  is,  honey  bird,"  Tom  agreed,  and  he 
reached  down  in  each  boot  and  drew  out  two 
pouches  made  of  moleskin  and  heavy  with 

192 


THE  MATRIX 

coin  and  script,  thus  with  all  his  worldly 
goods  endowing  Nancy  before  the  ceremony 
which  it  is  usual  to  have  accompany  such  a 
bestowal. 

"I  've  got  some  money  too,  and  we  '11  buy 
it  together,"  Nancy  said,  as  she  laid  the  for 
tune  on  the  stump  beside  her. 

"I  can't  believe  it  is  true,"  poor  Thomas 
suddenly  faltered,  as  he  drew  Nancy  into  his 
arms  again.  "I  've  been  so  lonesome  all  my 
life,  Nancy,  with  you  lost  to  me.  I  ain't 
much  but  I  've  never  harmed  nobody,"  and 
with  his  cheek  pressed  to  the  soft  haven  she 
had  shown  him  poor  inarticulate,  unlettered 
Thomas  Lincoln  poured  into  the  heart  of 
his  mate  all  the  pent-up  humiliations,  dis 
couragements,  longings,  strivings  and  ambi 
tions  that  had  filled  his  silent  self-contained 
life. 

"If  I  had  n't  learned  to  pray  to  God, 
Nancy,  I  could  n't  have  stood  it,  but  Elder 

193 


THE  MATRIX 

Head  helped  me  to  that,"  he  said  at  last,  as 
he  rested  content  against  her  shoulder  with 
her  hand  stroking  his  hair. 

"I  wish  Elder  Head  was  a  Presbyterian 
instead  of  a  Methodist,"  Nancy  said. 
"Both  of  them  just  sprinkles,  and  what's 
the  difference?" 

"Presbyterians  declare  against  slavery 
and  I  've  got  to  hold  with  'em,"  Tom  said  as 
he  sat  up  and  threw  back  his  head  like  a 
war  horse  scenting  the  fray. 

"Of  course  we  '11  hold  with  them  that  ev 
erybody  ought  to  go  free,"  Nancy  assented, 
as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  took  Tom's  for 
tune  from  the  tree  trunk  beside  her.  "But 
let's  get  Elder  Head  to  marry  us,  as  there 
ain't  no  Presbyterian  preacher  in  town  now. 
I  '11  be  glad  to  have  him." 

"Keep  talking  that  word  'marry,'  Nancy, 
so  as  I  '11  get  it  in  my  head  before  I  have 
to  let  you  go  away  from  me  in  the  house," 
Tom  said  as  he  and  Nancy  walked  hand  and 

194 


THE  MATRIX 

hand  away  from  the  place  of  their  betrothal, 
which  had  been  out  in  God's  open  as  had  the 
betrothal  of  the  first  man  and  the  first 
woman. 

And  hand  and  hand  they  went  into  the 
clearing  and  to  the  back  door  of  the  Berry 
home,  which  was  dark  and  hovering  deep 
sleep.  Tom  was  about  to  take  Nancy  into  a 
good-night  embrace,  when  a  shadow  fell  be 
tween  them. 

The  Runt  rose  from  the  doorstep  and 
flung  himself  with  a  laughing  sob  down  in 
the  dust  at  Nancy's  feet  and  buried  his 
woolly  head  in  her  skirts  as  his  long  arms 
embraced  her  knees. 

"Howdy,  Miss  Nancy,  howdy,"  he  gur 
gled  in  the  depths  of  emotional  joy,  which 
is  the  characteristic  of  his  race. 

"Why,  Runt,  where  did  you  come  from?" 
Nancy  cried  with  welcome  in  her  voice,  as 
she  patted  the  woolly  head  and  then  pushed 
Runt  back  on  his  flat  heels. 

195 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  come  with  Marse  Tom.  We  shot  a 
deer  and  toting  it  made  me  behind  him  on 
the  road." 

"I  told  you  to  call  me  Mister  Tom  and 
not  Marse  Tom,  Runt,"  said  Tom  sternly. 
"Somebody  '11  be  thinking  you  belong  to 
me." 

"Yessir,"  answered  the  Runt  meekly. 
"But  lessen  somebody  makes  me  I  ain't 
a-going  to  say  I  'se  a  free  nigger." 

"Well,  go  and  get  in  the  hay  in  the  barn," 
Nancy  commanded  quickly,  thus  stopping 
an  argument  which  had  gone  on  for  twelve 
years.  With  a  chuckle  the  Runt  obeyed, 
having  for  once  said  the  last  word  on  the 
sore  subject. 

The  old  moon  got  around  in  time  to  see 
Thomas  Lincoln  for  a  last  time  take  Nancy 
Hanks  in  his  strong  arms  and  dismiss  her 
into  the  silent  house  with  an  embrace  whose 
force  was  ordained  to  produce  power,  as 
surely  as  were  the  great  coordinated  parts  of 

196 


THE  MATRIX 

the  driving  machine  in  the  steamboat  Robert 
Fulton  had  just  launched  for  the  first  time 
on  the  Hudson  River  at  about  that  date. 


187, 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  ten  days  before  their  marriage  sped 
by  Thomas  and  Nancy  so  fleetly  that 
they  could  hardly  count  them.  If  her  fam 
ily  and  friends  disapproved  of  her  marriage, 
they  failed  to  say  so,  and  the  whole  Eliza- 
bethtown  "wished  Nancy  well,"  though  pre 
dicting  that  she  was  "throwing  herself 
away,"  having  "gone  through  the  woods  and 
picked  up  a  crooked  stick."  As  she  had 
predicted,  Charlie  Friend  and  Ned  Berry 
were  glad  to  help  Tom  raise  a  big  one-room 
cabin,  almost  the  exact  counterpart  of  the 
one  into  which  he  had  carried  Nancy  on  her 
arrival  from  Virginia  into  the  Wilderness, 
and  the  last  three  days  before  the  solemn 
event  he  had  free  for  making  a  few  neces- 

198 


THE  MATRIX 

sary  pieces  of  furniture.  Thursday  after 
noon  he  spent  setting  the  strong  post  upon 
which  he  was  going  to  nail  the  split  rails  to 
hold  the  cords  for  the  swinging  of  the  feather 
bed,  which  the  aunts  Lucy  and  Lizzie  were 
industriously  stuffing  into  a  tick  Nancy  had 
woven,  even  while  she  was  saving  the  down 
of  wild  fowl,  thus  making  the  bed  she  was  to 
lie  in.  While  he  was  at  work  Nancy  came 
in  the  door,  flung  herself  into  his  arms  and 
began  to  cry  with  her  cheek  pressed  to  his 
hairy  breast,  from  which  as  usual  the  hickory 
shirt  fell  away. 

"Hush-e,  hush-e,"  he  crooned,  with  the  old 
quieting  charm.  He  did  n't  ask  the  cause  of 
the  outburst,  he  just  cradled  and  hummed. 
Tom  Lincoln  always  used  words  as  a  last  re 
sort. 

"I  had  to  go  to  Clinton  Meriweather's 
bank  for  the  money  to  pay  for  the  land," 
she  sobbed. 

"Didn't  he  speak  you  fair?"  demanded 

199 


THE  MATRIX 

Tom,  as  the  muscles  in  his  tender  arms  tight 
ened. 

"Yes,  and  he  's  going  to  Philadelphia  to 
night,"  Nancy  said,  controlling  her  sobs  but 
with  her  arms  creeping  up  around  Tom's 
neck.  "He  thinks  I  was  n't  square  with 
him." 

"Well,  thinking  don't  hurt  nobody,"  Tom 
soothed,  as  he  put  her  from  him  gently  and 
went  on  nailing  the  rails  for  their  nuptial 
couch.  "Maybe  it  '11  help  you  to  put  a  little 
elbow  grease  in  the  way  of  polishing  on  that 
table  I  split  out  for  you  this  morning  over 
there  in  the  corner.  Do  you  want  to  sleep 
with  your  head  east  or  north?" 

"North,"  answered  Nancy  with  the  color 
rising  up  to  the  very  edge  of  her  purple 
eyes.  Tom  laughed  and  kissed  her,  thus 
restoring  her  equilibrium,  but  sealing  up 
within  her  the  hurt  of  her  interview  with 
Clinton  Meriweather. 

And  the  ordeal  had  been  a  hard  one. 

200 


THE  MATRIX 

Xancy  had  hoped  to  find  other  clients  in 
the  bank,  but  Clinton  was  alone  when  she 
entered,  and  immediately  came  over  to  the 
railing  that  separated  his  safe  and  desk 
from  the  rest  of  the  room,  and  stood  beside 
her.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  faced 
each  other  since  the  long  moment  when 
Thomas  Lincoln  had  stepped  between  them 
and  at  the  sight  of  her,  with  the  love  lustre 
upon  her  face  and  body,  had  risen  in  the 
heart  of  the  shrewd  man  of  the  world  an 
overwhelming  desire  to  battle  for  what  he 
wanted.  And  in  his  passion  he  was  a  for 
midable  adversary. 

"Do  you  fully  realize  what  you  are  doing 
in  marrying  this  Lincoln,  Xancy?"  he  asked 
with  only  quiet  and  gentleness  in  his  cul 
tured  voice. 

"Yes,"  answered  Xancy  with  a  proud  up 
lifting  of  her  beautiful  head. 

"I  don't  believe  you  do  and  I  want  you 
to  let  me  put  it  to  you  plainly.     I  ask  it  be- 
201 


THE  MATRIX 

cause — because  I  think  my  love  for  you 
gives  me  the  right." 

The  demand  appealed  to  Nancy's  sense  of 
both  justice  and  generosity. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  again  with  tears  deep 
in  her  eyes  for  what  she  could  not  help  but 
see  the  strong  man  was  suffering. 

"In  your  twenty-third  year  you  are  mar 
rying  a  man  your  inferior  in  every  way,  who 
is  too  old  for  you  to  raise  to  your  own  stand 
ard.  He  can  neither  read  nor  write,  and  it 
is  not  likely  that  he  will  be  able  to  take  care 
of  you.  I  have  offered  you  everything  to 
make  a  woman's  life  complete.  I  ask  you 
to  stop  and  think,  before  it  is  too  late." 

Could  a  woman  have  been  more  fully 
tempted? 

"I  love  him,"  Nancy  answered  with  a 
flame  in  her  eyes  which  is  a  race  signal  which 
must  be  obeyed  if  great  results  are  to  be 
obtained.  "I  thank  you,  Clint,  but  I  love 
Tom  Lincoln." 

202 


THE  MATRIX 

"Then  that 's  all,  Nancy,"  answered  the 
banker  as  his  keen  mind  signaled  his  hot  and 
ravished  heart  the  uselessness  of  protest. 
"I  'm  going  to  Philadelphia  by  tonight's 
stage  and  Mr.  Robinson  will  attend  to  the 
banking  until  I  get  back.  Your  account  is 
all  in  order.  I  hope  you  are  going  to  be 
happy.  If  you  are  not—  "  a  grim  line  came 
around  his  mouth  and  a  spark  struck  out 
of  his  eyes,  which  he  quickly  veiled. 
"Good-by." 

The  grimness  in  his  powerful  face  and 
voice  frightened  Nancy,  and  sent  her  flying 
to  Tom.  What  was  it  in  the  gentle,  rough, 
strong  frontiersman  which  made  destiny  se 
lect  him  to  mate  with  Xancy  Hanks  instead 
of  one  of  the  most  intellectual  and  powerful 
men  west  of  the  Alleghanies?  Is  it  that 
real  race  power  is  drawn  from  the  hearts 
of  the  blessed  "meek,  who  shall  inherit  the 
earth"?  Twice  at  least  we  know  that  the 
Lord  has  chosen  the  sons  of  carpenters  to 
803 


THE  MATRIX 

die  to  make  men  free ;  the  sons  of  Joseph  of 
Nazareth  and  Thomas  Lincoln. 

The  few  days  before  the  wedding  of 
Thomas  and  Nancy  were  so  crowded  with 
worldly  events  that  they  had  not  a  moment 
for  love's  communion,  and  the  maid  kept  the 
man's  head  in  such  a  whirl  that  he  was  more 
stupid  and  awkward  than  usual.  He  fin 
ished  all  necessary  furniture  and  on  his  broad 
shoulders  he  transported  bundle  and  box  and 
basket  and  jug  and  bucket  and  kettle 
through  the  forest  that  lay  between  the 
Berry  home  and  the  new  Lincoln  cabin,  un 
til  he  had  trampled  and  kicked  in  the  under 
growth  a  well-defined  path  from  door  to 
door.  And  each  journey  the  Runt,  a  pa 
tient  little  pack  mule,  trotted  behind  him, 
shuffling  his  big  bare  feet  and  singing  in  a 
plaintive  monotone,  in  which  Tom  some 
times  joined  him. 

The  very  day  before  the  wedding,  the 
Runt's  employer,  not  master,  stopped  in  his 

204 


THE  MATRIX 

transporting  job  long  enough  to  knock  up 
a  rude  shelter  of  cedar  posts  for  his  em 
ployee,  in  which  he  threw  the  cedar  boughs 
and  a  skin  blanket  for  a  bed  for  the  little 
black  crow.  After  he  had  finished  it,  and 
was  just  ready  to  pull  the  door  of  the  cabin 
to,  and  go  back  for  another  load,  Nancy 
came  along  the  path  through  the  forest,  and 
her  rich  clear  voice  was  singing  Tom's  fav 
orite  hymn,  the  outpouring  of  the  soul  of 
Charles  Wesley,  which  he  had  made,  as  a 
treasure  for  the  ages,  when  he  found  him 
self  in  danger  of  death  from  the  actual  wa 
ters  of  a  great  storm. 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly ; 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll, 
While  the  tempest  still  is  high," 

Nancy  sang  and  as  she  came  into  the  clear 
ing  Thomas  Lincoln's  rich  voice  rose  and 
joined  hers,  in  the  greatest  plea  ever  writ 
ten: 

205 


THE  MATRIX 

"Other  refuge  have  I  none, 
Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee; 


Cover  my  defenseless  head 
With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing." 

"What  kept  you,  Tom?"  asked  Nancy,  as 
Tom  took  the  basket  full  of  white  linen  from 
her  head  and  kissed  her  red  lips  in  the  proc 
ess. 

"Building  a  little  shack  for  that  worthless 
Runt,"  Tom  answered,  after  another  kiss. 
"He  'd  die  if  he  had  to  sleep  more  'n  a  hun 
dred  feet  away  from  me,  drat  him." 

"Say,  Tom,  you  freed  Runt,  why  don't 
you  ask  him  to  make  return  and  free  you?" 
Nancy  teased  as  she  walked  into  the  cabin, 
fanning  with  a  white,  ruffed,  pink-lined  sun- 
bonnet  her  cheeks,  hot  from  the  long  and 
burdened  walk,  and  also  love's  imprint. 

"Ain't  it  purty,  honey  bird?"  Tom  asked, 
as  Nancy  stood  looking  around  at  the  little 
home  with  shining  eyes. 

206 


THE  MATRIX 

"It  is  just  a  little  under  heaven,  Tom," 
answered  Xancy,  crowding  close  between  his 
arm  and  his  heart.  "Nothing  to  do  but  put 
these  bleached  curtains  to  the  windows  you 
made  so  nice  and  big  on  account  of  my  spin 
ning  and  to  spread  the  bed." 

"I  think  this  cabin  got  sorter  located  jest 
inside  them  pearl  gates  without  our  knowing 
it,  Nancy,"  Tom  answered  softly  as  he  held 
her  close  and  looked  over  her  head  around 
the  cabin  room. 

And  the  home  that  Thomas  Lincoln  built 
for  Nancy  Hanks  in  the  township  of  Eliza- 
bethtown  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1806, 
would  touch  the  heart  of  any  woman  even 
to  the  fourth  and  fifth  generation.  Tom 
had  arranged  with  his  brother  Mordecai  to 
send  his  skins  by  a  mule-packer,  and  before 
the  cabin's  huge  rough  stone  fireplace  was 
spread  all  that  remained  of  the  big  bear  Tom 
had  killed  in  Lincoln  Settlement,  whose  fat 
Nancy  had  expended  on  his  head  during  her 
207 


THE  MATRIX 

ninth  winter.  It  was  a  noble  skin.  Oth 
ers  of  deer  and  wild  cat  and  coon  lay  about, 
and  over  the  foot  of  the  rail  bed  was  thrown 
a  blanket  of  the  finest  moleskins,  which  Tom 
had  made  in  long,  lonely  winter  nights  like 
a  woman  makes  a  patchwork  quilt. 

"I  always  intended  it  to  cover  you,  honey 
bird,  but  I  did  n't  think  that  I  would— 
Nancy  interrupted  him  by  use  of  blush  and 
kiss. 

"With  the  bright  pots  and  dishes  and  my 
wheel  and  loom,  and  my  herbs  and  things 
hanging  from  the  rafters,  and  the  twig 
broom  and  the  candle  box  full,  and  my  rock 
ing  chair—  '  she  was  saying  when  Tom  in 
terrupted  her. 

"With  Aunt  Nancy's  big  Bible  and  your 
'Pilgrim's  Progress'  on  the  table,  with  two 
dips  for  lighting,  I  tell  you,  Nancy,  it — it — 
is  jest  a  home,  a  thing  I  ain't  never  had  be 
fore." 

"You  '11  never  be  lonely  again,"  Nancy 

208 


THE  MATRIX 

promised,  as  she  noted  the  sadness  of  a  life's 
longing  that  lay  back  of  the  day's  joy. 

"Never,  with  you,"  Tom  assented. 

"And  here  's  the  marriage  bond  you  and 
Uncle  Berry  have  got  to  sign,  and  leave  in 
the  court  house  for  a  record,  that  they  ain't 
no  reason  why  we  should  n't  marry,"  said 
Nancy,  as  she  took  a  paper  from  her  pocket. 

"They  ain't  no  reason  in  this  world  why  I 
should  n't  marry  you,  Nancy,  except  my  un- 
worthiness,"  Tom  said  thoughtfully. 

"There  's  no  reason  in  this  world  or  under 
heaven  why  I  should  n't  marry  you,  Tom," 
Nancy  gave  true  and  honest  answer  as  she 
looked  him  full  in  the  face.  "Because  I  Ve 
worked  around  amongst  the  men,  folks  have 
backbit  me,  Tom,  but  I  'm  honest." 

"I  know  it,  Nancy,"  answered  Tom,  with 
the  confidence  shining  in  his  face  which  a 
good  man  always  feels  when  he  puts  the 
fate  of  himself  and  his  posterity  in  the  hands 
of  a  woman.  "Read  me  this  here  bond." 

209 


THE  MATRIX 

Thereupon  Nancy  Hanks,  who  could 
read,  read  to  Thomas  Lincoln,  who  could  not 
read,  the  marriage  bond  which  with  their 
licence  of  marriage  is  spread  upon  the  rec 
ords  for  all  men  to  see,  even  unto  this  day. 

Know  all  men,  by  these  presents,  that  we,  Thomas 
Lincoln  and  Richard  Berry,  are  held  and  firmly  bound 
unto  his  Excellency,  the  Governor  of  Kentucky,  in 
the  just  and  full  sum  of  Fifty  Pounds,  current  money, 
to  the  payment  of  which  well  and  truly,  to  be  made  to 
the  said  ourselves,  our  heirs,  etc.,  jointly  and  sever 
ally,  firmly  by  these  presents,  sealed  with  our  seals 
and  dated  this  10th  day  of  June,  1806.  The  condi 
tion  of  the  above  obligation  is  such  that,  whereas  there 
is  marriage  shortly  intended  between  the  above  bound 
Thomas  Lincoln  and  Nancy  Hanks,  for  which  a  li 
cense  has  been  issued:  now  if  there  be  no  lawful  cause 
to  obstruct  the  said  marriage,  then  this  obligation  to 
be  void,  or  else  to  remain  in  full  force  and  virtue  of 
law. 

THOMAS  LINCOLN    (SEAL) 
RICHARD  BERRY       (SEAL) 
WITNESS:  John  H.  Parrott,  Guardian. 

"Shoo,  all  that  fuss  and  fine  words  and 
money  put  up  just  to  sorter  hold  us  to  hav- 

210 


THE  MATRIX 

ing  a  right  to  marry,  when  the  Lord  gave  us 
to  each  other  nigh  fifteen  years  ago,  you 
five  and  me  ten  years,"  said  Tom  with  a 
chuckle.  "How  am  I  going  to  sign  it  any 
way,  when  I  can't  write  my  name?" 

"You  can  just  make  your  mark,  Tom,  and 
I  '11  make  mine  on  the  licence,  so  as  not  to 
shame  you,  because  you  '11  be  reading  and 
writing  before  snow  flies,  with  me  to  teach 
you,"  answered  Nancy,  with  ambition  for 
Tom  blazing  in  her  purple  eyes. 

"Maybe,"  answered  Tom  warily.  "Did 
you  bring  my  white  shirt?"  He  thus  strove 
to  substitute  one  ambition  for  another  in 
Nancy's  breast,  and  succeeded  for  the  time 
being,  though  before  the  predicted  time 
Nancy  had  taught  him  to  scrawl  T.  Lincoln. 

"I  washed  it  and  ironed  it  myself,  Tom," 
answered  Nancy  eagerly.  "And,  oh,  Tom, 
you  know  how  to  fix  yourself  good ;  will  you 
do  it  for  the  wedding  tomorrow?" 

"Nancy,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor 


THE  MATRIX 

I  '11  do  all  the  things  you  did  to  me  the  time 
I  first  wore  that  shirt  and  some  more  too. 
If  you  don't  trust  me  I  '11  come  along  over 
to  Uncle  Berry's,  and  let  you  polish  me  off. 
I  want  to  do  you  credit,  honey  bird,  I  do, 
shure."  Tom's  face  was  very  wistful  as  he 
looked  at  lovely  Nancy,  standing  in  the 
doorway. 

"You  and  me  will  do  each  other  credit, 
Tom,"  Nancy  answered,  a  flare  of  ambition 
in  her  purple  eyes  and  the  gift  of  prophecy 
descending  upon  her  for  the  moment. 

The  twelfth  day  of  June,  eighteen  hun 
dred  and  six,  dawned  in  Elizabethtown  in 
the  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky,  clear  and 
warm,  with  fragrant  breezes  loitering  over 
the  tree  tops  in  the  forest  and  shaking  down 
petals  of  the  wild  rose  in  the  undergrowth 
and  of  English  roses  on  the  threshold  of  the 
homes  in  the  busy  little  town.  Soft  white 
clouds,  that  looked  like  the  tips  of  the  wings 
of  hiding  attendant  angels  floating  about  in 

212 


THE  MATRIX 

the  blue  waiting  to  descend  as  guests  at  the 
wedding  of  Nancy  Hanks  and  Thomas 
Lincoln,  rose  on  the  horizon. 

Members  of  the  Berry  and  Sparrow  house 
holds  swarmed  in  and  about  and  around, 
getting  all  in  readiness  for  the  big  "wedding 
infair"  to  be  held  out  in  the  edge  of  the  clear 
ing  at  Old  Rock  Spring,  to  which  well  nigh 
the  entire  country-side  had  been  invited. 
Long  before  the  dawn  of  the  wedding  day, 
Uncle  Berry  was  up  and  seeing  that  the  car 
cases  of  a  young  beef,  a  lamb,  two  shoats, 
and  numerous  wild  fowl  were  roasting  over 
the  barbecue  pits  which  he  had  had  dug  the 
day  before,  and  in  which  Runt  and  Xed 
Berry  had  been  burning  hickory  logs  down 
into  beds  of  coals  all  night.  He  mixed,  him 
self,  the  huge  black  pot  of  herbs  and  butter 
and  vinegar  with  which  the  baking  meat 
was  basted,  and  sniffed  often  and  carefully 
during  the  day,  to  be  sure  that  the  roasting 
was  being  done  slowly  but  surely,  which 

213 


THE  MATRIX 

would  result  in  a  crackling  brown  crust  with 
not  an  inch  of  burnt  skin  to  mar  the  perfect 
taste. 

Aunt  Lucy  and  Aunt  Lizzie  and  their 
women  friends  worked  around  corn  pone  and 
pound  cake  to  cup  custards,  and  cold  slaw 
and  back  again,  until  the  huge  flat  rock,  on 
which  was  spread  the  thickest  Berry  home 
spun  damask,  was  in  danger  of  tilting  with 
its  burden  of  food.  The  gentle  young  ma 
tron,  Sarah  Mitchell  Thompson,  who  had 
come  twenty  miles  with  a  new-born  baby  to 
the  wedding  of  her  best  beloved  cousin,  and 
pert  little  Nancy  Sparrow  Friend  worked  in 
Nancy  Hanks'  little  dormer  loft  bedroom, 
smoothing  out  the  fine  white  homespun  wed 
ding  dress  and  packing  a  few  of  her  things 
in  a  bundle,  to  be  carried  to  the  cabin  out 
in  the  clearing  at  the  last  minute.  And 
among  them  Nancy  walked,  drinking  in  their 
kindness  and  affection,  as  a  flower  drinks  in 
the  sun  and  the  dew,  but  she  walked  alone. 

214 


THE  MATRIX 

Thomas  Lincoln  had  taken  to  his  beloved 
woods  in  an  agony  of  embarrassment  and 
awe.  Tom  was  not  accustomed  to  be  the 
center  of  interest. 

"I  bet  Tom  have  gone  clean  back  to  Lin 
coln  Settlement,  and  if  you  say  so,  Nancy, 
I  '11  get  on  a  mule  and  drag  him  back  for 
you/'  Uncle  Tom  Sparrow  teased,  as  he 
lifted  a  keg  of  elderberry  wine,  of  Nancy's 
own  brew,  out  of  the  cool  cellar  and  carried 
it  over  to  set  in  the  cooler  drip  of  Old  Rock 
Spring. 

"Nobody  has  to  rope  in  a  bridegroom  for 
Miss  Nancy,"  Giles  Claibourne  said,  as  he 
looked  wistfully  at  Nancy  and  then  at  pretty 
Hannah  Lytsey  with  whom  Nancy,  with 
practical  cunning,  had  set  him  to  selecting 
smooth  rose-colored  chips  of  cedar  to  be  used 
as  plates  for  the  feast,  from  a  pile  Tom  had 
cut  the  day  before  at  the  woodshed. 

"Tom  will  be  here,"  Nancy  answered,  with 
a  soft  laugh  in  her  throat  and  in  her  eyes. 

215 


THE  MATRIX 

She  knew  so  well  what  Tom  was  undergo 
ing,  but  she  dared  not  go  to  him  and  leave 
the  guests. 

The  family  and  the  near  of  kin  and  friends 
who  had  been  helping  prepare  the  "infair," 
were  just  about  done  with  their  task,  and 
the  sun  had  sunk  almost  to  the  treetops,  from 
which  height  he  grants  to  the  earth  the 
witching  hour,  when  Elder  Head  arrived  and 
gave  the  signal  for  the  wedding  array.  The 
men  washed  up  at  the  pump  in  the  back 
yard  and  assumed  their  decorous  Sunday 
coats,  of  either  broadcloth  or  homespun, 
while  the  women  took  off  the  aprons  that 
had  shielded  their  festive  dimity,  shook  out 
their  ruffles,  smoothed  water-waved  and 
banded  hair,  and  began  to  ask  if  the  bride 
needed  assistance  in  her  toilet. 

It  was  the  custom  in  the  pioneer  life  to 
have  the  actual  wedding  ceremony  per 
formed  with  only  the  family  and  next  of  kin 
and  friends  as  witnesses,  just  before  the 

216 


THE  MATRIX 

waves  of  the  infair  were  scheduled  to  break 
over  the  then  already  married  pair.  There 
were  not  more  than  two  dozen  well-beloved 
"folks"  in  the  long,  low-roofed  Berry  living- 
room  to  witness  the  marriage  ceremony  of 
Nancy  Hanks  and  Thomas  Lincoln,  and 
their  eyes  were  dim  as  Nancy  came  into  the 
room  in  her  soft  white  gown,  with  a  rose  in 
her  red-gold  hair,  seeming  somehow  to  their 
tenderness  as  the  woman  incarnate.  She 
walked  over  to  the  fireplace,  before  which 
sat  Elder  Head  back  of  a  table,  on  which  lay 
the  large  Bible  sweet,  dead  Nancy  Shipley 
had  brought  with  her  as  she  followed  big 
Joseph  Hanks  into  the  Wilderness,  and  her 
self  lighted  from  the  flint  box  two  tall  can 
dles  of  her  own  dipping,  and  with  her  own 
steady  hand  opened  the  Book  at  the  verses 
she  wanted  read  to  begin  her  marriage  cere 
mony  : 

"Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thine  heart,  as  a 
seal  upon  thine  arm:  for  love  is  strong  as 
217 


THE  MATRIX 

death — many  waters  cannot  quench  love, 
neither  can  the  floods  drown  it- 
Then  she  turned,  and  with  the  love  light 
of  the  ages  on  her  face,  held  out  her  hand 
to  Tom,  who  had  been  standing  in  the  door 
way  watching  her.  He  came  straight  to 
her  with  his  fine  head  held  high,  and  the 
freedom  of  a  woods  animal  in  his  lithe  stride. 
Then,  with  his  solemn  eyes  sunk  deep  in 
hers,  he  stood  before  Elder  Head  and  made 
his  marriage  vow: 

"I,  Thomas,  take  thee  Nancy,  to  have  and 
to  hold,  until  death  us  do  part." 

And  Nancy  answered  him  with  her  eyes 
and  with  her  lips : 

"I,  Nancy,  take  thee  Thomas,  to  keep  to, 
only  as  long  as  we  both  do  live." 

Both  vows  were  kept  and  the  result  was 
justified. 

The  "infair,"  which  followed  immediately, 
at  which  the  whole  countryside  was  present, 
was  such  a  notable  occasion  that  Daniel 

218 


THE  MATRIX 

Bishop,  then  twenty,  when  nearing  a  hun 
dred  years  of  age,  compared  most  unfavor 
ably  all  the  like  functions  he  had  attended  in 
the  eighty  years  that  passed  from  that  date, 
with  "the  infair  at  Nancy  and  Tom  Lin 
coln's  wedding." 

After  the  feast  had  been  consumed,  the 
songs  all  sung,  the  toasts  drunk  in  the  elder 
berry  wine,  the  dancing  all  over,  and  the  fat 
pine  torches  flared  down  into  ashes,  Nancy 
tore  herself  from  loving  embraces  and  went 
out  into  the  forest  with  her  husband,  along 
the  path  he  had  worn  from  her  old  home  to 
her  new.  In  his  hand  he  carried  her  nup 
tial  bundle,  and  under  her  arm  was  sweet, 
dead  Nancy's  Book  of  Books.  Far  before 
them  flitted  the  shadow  of  faithful  Runt. 

When  they  had  reached  the  door  of  their 
humble  home,  and  Tom  had  drawn  Nancy 
across  the  threshold  and  into  his  arms,  a 
star  rose  in  the  East  and  shone  down  over 
the  sacred  veil  of  hovering,  purple  darkness. 

219 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  first  two  and  a  half  years  of  the 
married  life  of  Tom  and  Nancy  Lin 
coln  passed  by  in  happy,  busy,  contented 
pioneer  life  that  kept  through  the  passing 
seasons  the  decided  flavor  of  the  honeymoon. 
Thomas  Lincoln  had  been  too  long  without 
the  tenderness  of  a  woman's  love  to  be  easily 
satisfied,  and  he  would  hurry  home  from  his 
carpentering  through  the  woods  to  the  little 
cabin  in  the  clearing,  with  all  the  eagerness 
of  a  lover,  even  run  the  last  few  paces  to 
clasp  Nancy  in  rough  arms,  as  she  stood 
dimpling  at  the  door  or  the  edge  of  the  wood 
waiting  for  him. 

"What  you  got  for  supper,  honey  bird?" 
he  would  ask  after  his  heart  hunger  had 
been  satisfied. 

220 


THE  MATRIX 

"Roast  squirrel,  corn  pone  and  poke- 
greens,"  she  would  be  likely  to  answer,  and 
very  soon  thereafter  prove  her  statement  by 
setting  the  steaming  food  before  the  hungry 
man,  who  never  failed  to  go  to  the  cedar 
bucket  and  earthern  pan  at  the  back  door 
to  wash  his  hands  and  face,  after  Nancy  had 
reminded  him  to  do  so  a  few  times  when  they 
were  first  married.  "What  have  you  been 
doing  today?"  she  wrould  ask,  as  she  sat  op 
posite  to  him  doing  her  full  trencher  duty. 

"I  was  putting  the  roof  to  the  new  rooms 
Eph  Beckett  is  building  to  the  Elizabeth- 
town  Tavern.  And  say,  Nancy,  me  and 
him  had  one  good  ruckus  over  this  here 
law  that  if  a  slave  gits  away,  his  master  kin 
go  git  him.  Eph,  he  held  that  a  nigger  is 
property  like  a  hawg  or  a  horse  that  he  paid 
money  for,  and  he  had  a  right  to  go  git  him. 
I  held  that  a  man  had  no  right  to  own  an 
other  man,  even  if  black,  in  the  first  place, 
much  less  hound  him  down.  We  had  it  up 

221 


THE  MATRIX 

and  down  and  Eph  he  got  hot  under  his  col 
lar.  I  did  n't  have  no  collar  on,  but  I  shut 
him  up,  after  a  considerable  crowd  had  gath 
ered,  by  asking  him  if  it  is  right  to  hold 
slaves,  why  did  Mister  President  Jefferson 
make  a  law  that  no  more  be  brought  from 
Africa  after  next  year.  Old  Eph  would 
die  by  that  Tom  Jefferson,  and  so  he  shet 
up." 

"Mr.  Beckett  is  old,  Tom,  and  I  would  n't 
argufy  with  him  tomorrow,"  Nancy  advised, 
as  she  helped  Tom  to  the  squirrel  rump  and 
some  more  of  the  pone. 

"I  won't  have  the  chanct  to  fer  he  told  me 
he  could  git  along  without  me,"  Tom  an 
swered  with  a  baffled  look  coming  into  his 
eyes.  "A  man  oughter  have  the  right  to  his 
say  and  his  work  separate.  I  hold  against 
slavery  strong,  and  Eph  holds  for  it,  but 
that  don't  hurt  the  way  I  shingle  his  roof. 
I  won't  have  no  man  put  a  muzzle  on  me 
just  because  he  pays  me  money." 


ALAl-lllA. 

"No,  don't  you  never  let  any  man  make 
a  slave  of  your  speech,  Tom,"  Nancy  agreed 
with  a  flame  rising  in  her  eyes. 

"But  if  it  keeps  up  against  my  work  we 
might  git  hungry  poor,"  Tom  said  slowly, 
with  anxiety  drawing  lines  on  his  rugged 
face. 

"Well,  just  declare  for  freedom  when 
asked  and  trust  the  rest  to  the  Lord,  who 
made  us  all  free,"  Xancy  advised  with  high 
headed  courage,  as  she  began  the  simple  op 
eration  of  clearing  the  table  and  putting  a 
bountiful  dinner  for  the  freedman  Runt,  who 
was  sitting  on  his  heels  at  the  front  of  his 
snug  shelter  waiting  for  it. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  Eph  will  come  around  when 
he  wants  a  good  story  tolt  him,"  Tom  said,  as 
Xancy  filled  his  pipe,  lit  it  by  expertly  pick 
ing  up  a  coal  from  the  embers  of  the  sup 
per  fire,  drew  it  once  herself  and  handed  it 
to  him  with  a  kiss  and  a  stroke  of  the  rough 
black  hair.  "Hurry  up,  honey  bird,  and 

223 


THE  MATRIX 

come  read  me  a  new  story  on  ten  the  good 
Book  to  coax  him  with." 

Thomas  Lincoln  had  always  been  a  good 
story  teller  in  his  dry  quiet  way,  to  the  hun 
ters  and  men  around  Lincoln  Creek,  but, 
since  his  residence  in  Elizabethtown,  the  gift 
had  been  greatly  developed.  Many  of  the 
backwoodsmen  he  worked  with  could  not 
read  and  nothing  delighted  Tom  or  them 
more  than  to  have  a  story  conference  at  noon 
time  or  on  a  Saturday  night,  when  they 
brought  their  wives  and  daughters  in  to 
trade  with  the  merchants  around  the  Square, 
while  they  waited  to  "tote"  home  the  pur 
chases.  Tom's  slow  mind  was  very  reten 
tive  and  the  "^sop's  Fables"  and  "Pil 
grim's  Progress"  were  veritable  gold  mines 
to  him  and  through  him  to  the  other  work 
ing  men,  as  well  as  all  of  the  stories  of  the 
Bible.  No  matter  how  tired  he  was,  after 
one  of  Nancy's  good  suppers,  he  would  al 
ways  light  two  candles,  lay  the  books  on  the 

224 


THE  MATRIX 

corner  of  the  table,  pull  Nancy's  rocking 
chair  up,  sprawl  himself  on  a  bench  close  to 
her  so  his  arm  could  find  her  at  a  second's 
notice  and  give  himself  up  to  the  enchant 
ments  her  rich  voice  could  extract  from  the 
written  page  of  the  old  books.  The  wit  of 
the  Fables  and  the  Progress  of  Faithful 
always  came  first,  and  then  Nancy  would 
pause  a  moment,  while  Tom  drew  closer  and 
put  his  rough  head  on  her  soft  shoulder,  as 
she  opened  the  Book  with  reverent  fingers 
and  began  to  read  and  re-read  the  stories 
that  dead  Nancy  Hanks  had  read  to  the  two 
children  from  the  Book  she  had  brought  on 
a  mule-pack  from  Virginia  in  place  of  food 
for  herself,  knowing  that  she  must  thus 
bring  the  bread  of  life  with  her  into  the  Wil 
derness. 

"I  will  bring  you  out  from  under  the 
burdens  of  the  Egyptians,  and  I  will  rid  you 
of  their  bondage,"  was  the  crux  of  the  story 
he  still  loved  best  and  he  would  invariably 

225 


THE  MATRIX 

raise  his  head  with  the  fire  of  the  zealot  com 
ing  into  his  eyes  and  ask: 

"The  Lord  meant  folks  to  be  free,  Nancy, 
didn't  He?" 

"Yes,  Tom,  He  did,  and  some  day  they  all 
will  be  free!" 

"Let 's  put  it  in  our  prayers,  Nancy," 
Tom  would  answer,  when  he  knelt  beside 
Nancy  with  his  head  bowed  against  hers  as 
they  said  prayers  every  night  before  blow 
ing  out  the  candle. 

From  the  simple  faith  and  communion  of 
these  two  pioneers  came  the  force  that  freed 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  black  human  be 
ings  with  hearts  and  souls. 

Yes,  the  days  and  weeks  and  months  flew 
by  for  Nancy  Hanks  Lincoln  as  she  worked 
and  sang  in  her  cabin  on  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  The  "one  heifer  yearling  called 
Piedy,"  which  her  father  had  given  to  Nancy 
in  his  will,  had  two  descendants  in  the  shack 
outside  the  cabin  and  many  pounds  of  gilt- 

226 


THE  MATRIX 

edged  butter  did  Nancy  take  or  send  intc 
Elizabethtown  by  Thomas,  along  with  beau 
tiful  fancy  woven  lengths  of  cloth,  that  were 
eagerly  sought  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  town 
for  vests,  to  be  exchanged  for  gilt-edged  coin. 
She  also  exchanged  packages  of  herbs, 
strings  of  pepper  and  piggins  of  maple 
sugar,  that  she  boiled  whenever  the  sap  ran, 
for  banknotes  and  added  them  to  the  score 
she  and  Tom  were  using  to  make  payments 
on  a  tract  of  land  over  on  the  Big  South 
Fork  of  Noland  Creek. 

For  some  time  after  her  wedding  Nancy 
would  mount  Baldy,  the  steady  nag  given  to 
her  and  Tom  by  Brother  Jo  Hanks,  a  de 
scendant  also  from  the  Baldy  of  their  father's 
will,  behind  Tom  and  take  her  "truck"  in 
for  trading  herself,  which  she  conducted  with 
her  old  skill  and  joy  among  her  former  cus 
tomers.  Then  for  awhile  she  had  to  give 
that  up  for  the  business  of  producing  small 
Nancy,  who  came  in  the  spring  following 


THE  MATRIX 

her  marriage.  A  baby  is  an  effectual  hob 
ble  for  any  woman,  and  after  her  arrival 
Nancy  could  be  found  at  all  times  in  her 
home,  singing  and  working,  nursing  the  baby 
and  making  happiness  for  Tom  when  he 
came  home. 

But  if  Nancy  could  not  go  to  the  world, 
some  of  her  world  came  to  her.  On  the  long 
summer  evenings  Uncle  Berry  would  ride 
out,  sometimes  with  Aunt  Berry  on  the  pil 
lion  behind  him,  Jo  Hanks  would  come 
swinging  on  his  long  legs  through  the  forest, 
Mordecai  would  ride  up  and  hitch  to  a  tree 
on  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  with  him 
would  come  Nancy  Sparrow  and  Charlie, 
or  very  often  Giles  Claibourne,  who  brought 
behind  him  blushing  Hannah  Lystie,  whom 
Nancy  had  urged  upon  him  for  the  cherish 
ing  of  Gilly  and  his  small  brothers  and  sis 
ters. 

The  whole  party  would  sit  out  under  the 
trees  and  great  were  the  political  discus- 

228 


THE  MATRIX 

sions  waged.  At  that  date  the  separate 
States  were  still  ratifying  the  Constitution, 
Hamilton's  banking  policies  were  always  un 
der  fire,  and  the  Louisiana  Purchase  was  a 
bitterly  contested  question.  On  one  mem 
orable  evening  Christopher  Graham  met 
Felix  Grundy  in  front  of  the  home  of  Nancy 
Hanks  and  Thomas  Lincoln  and  "the  fur 
flew."  At  all  times  the  absorbing  topic  in 
the  Southwest  was  the  question  of  slavery, 
and  these  two  slave  holders  met  and  did  bat 
tle  with  Thomas  Lincoln  on  his  own  ground. 
Elder  Head  was  present  at  that  famous  dis 
cussion  and  he  firmly  "held  with  Tom  and 
Nancy." 

And  if  Thomas  Lincoln  spoke  out  in  no 
uncertain  terms,  Nancy  had  her  say  on  the 
subject,  and  her  way  was  to  the  point  and — 
prophetic. 

"The  Lord  will  take  'em  away  from  you 
men  who  buy  'em.  They  are  His  people." 

"The  Lord  made  the  man  who  invented 

229 


THE  MATRIX 

the  cotton  gin  and  by  so  doing  intended  slav 
ery,  Mrs.  Lincoln,"  Felix  Grundy  answered, 
with  the  argument  which  kept  America  in 
political  storms  and  retarded  her  growth  for 
half  a  century. 

"Wait  and  see,"  laughed  Nancy  in  per 
fect  faith. 

The  winter  of  1807-8  was  a  hard  one,  but 
Nancy  and  the  small  Nancy  kept  snug  and 
busy  in  the  cabin,  for  it  was  easy  enough  for 
Tom  to  keep  the  huge  chimney  piled  high 
with  roaring  logs,  and  the  larder  stocked 
with  venison,  bear,  turkey  and  pork. 
Nancy  still  sang  at  her  spinning  and  weav 
ing,  but  a  shadow  of  trouble  lay  at  the  depth 
of  her  violet  eyes  and  she  now  took  her  own 
products  to  market  herself,  no  matter  how 
intense  the  cold  or  how  bad  the  traveling. 
The  merchants  simply  would  not  buy  from 
Thomas  Lincoln,  and  the  fact  was  a  most  in 
tense  humiliation  to  Nancy. 

"Why  would  n't  you  buy  that  bolt  of  but- 

230 


THE  MATRIX 

ternut  from  Tom  when  he  offered  it  to  you 
last  week,  Giles?"  she  asked  Mr.  Claibourne, 
with  a  simple  directness  as  he  counted  out  a 
good  price  for  the  cloth  into  her  hand. 

"A  week's  aging  don't  make  cloth  of  a 
finer  weave,"  she  added. 

"I  was  so  confused  after  he  got  through 
a  lot  of  abolition  talk  at  me  right  in  front  of 
two  of  my  niggers,  that  I  thought  I  did  n't 
need  it,"  answered  Giles  with  kind  indirect 
ness  in  stating  his  case. 

"Well,  the  cloth  is  abolition  wove  and  you 
know  you  can't  buy  its  equal  in  the  coun 
try,"  Nancy  answered  with  her  head  high. 
"You  trade  in  souls  and  Tom  and  me  only 
ask  a  fair  trade  in  cloth." 

"I  '11  buy  anything  you  bring  me  to  sell, 
Xancy,"  Mr.  Claibourne  answered  her. 

"You  '11  trade  with  Tom  Lincoln  or  show 
an  empty  shelf  when  the  traders  ask  you 
for  peach-blow  cotton  or  plaid  wove  vest 
lengths,"  she  answered  as  she  swept  out  of 

231 


THE  MATRIX 

the  store  with  scarlet  spots  high  up  under 
her  purple  eyes. 

Nancy's  experience  with  her  friend  Mr. 
Giles  Claibourne  was  repeated  from  time  to 
time  at  the  other  stores,  until  the  fact  was 
driven  home  into  her  heart  that  Thomas  Lin 
coln  was  under  a  ban  that  threatened  to 
throttle  both  her  and  his  industries.  When 
he  went  into  town  the  farmers  and  traders 
and  carpenters  and  mechanics  stood  around 
him  and  applauded  his  abolition  views,  ex 
pressed  in  pointed,  strong  words  with  argu 
ment  of  the  Book  to  support  his  contentions, 
for  they  had  no  slaves  and  it  was  easy  to  be 
lieve  as  he  did.  However,  they  did  not  ex 
press  their  views  with  enough  frankness  to 
injure  their  barter  and  trade  with  the  rich 
men  of  the  community,  who  did  own  slaves 
and  resented  being  taken  to  task  for  it. 

But  if  Tom  was  fiery  and  inspired  when 
talking  in  the  village,  on  the  street  corners, 
and  around  store  stoves,  he  was  depressed 

232 


THE  MATRIX 

and  bewildered  and  humiliated  at  home  in 
the  little  cabin. 

"Looks  like  standing  up  for  the  Lord's 
right  is  going  to  lead  u's  into  being  mighty 
poor,  Nancy  honey,"  he  said  one  night  as  he 
sat  before  the  roaring  fire  with  his  elbows 
resting  on  the  table  and  his  head  in  his 
hands.  "In  the  pride  of  their  vain  hearts 
they  won't  buy  from  me  and  you  won't  sell 
to  them.  What  are  we  going  to  do?" 

"The  good  Lord  gave  us  this  land  and  the 
woods  beyond  to  make  a  living  on  and  we  '11 
just  do  without  anybody,  and  let  'em  do 
without  us.  Adam  and  Eve  prospered  con 
siderable  until  they  got  neighborly  with  the 
Devil,"  Nancy  answered  with  a  comfortable 
laugh.  The  dual  passion  of  her  life  flared 
up  in  her  eyes  as  she  drew  his  head  to  her 
breast.  "I  don't  ask  nothing  of  God  but 
you,  and  your  heart  clean  for  freedom,  Tom 
Lincoln." 

"Me  neither,  Nancy,"  he  responded  as  he 

233 


THE  MATRIX 

engulfed  her  in  her  strong  arms  to  which 
men  were  denying  labor. 

But  to  live  apart  from  and  without  the 
world  is  well  nigh  an  impossibility  for  pion 
eers,  and  also  for  men  with  a  purpose  in 
their  hearts.  Thomas  Lincoln  could  not 
stay  in  the  Wilderness  with  what  he  con 
ceived  to  be  a  message  in  his  soul,  and  he 
was  drawn  irresistibly  to  the  town  to 
"preach,"  and  his  talking  grew  more  and 
more  effective  as  it  divided  Elizabethtown 
into  pro-  and  anti-slavery  groups.  During 
the  spring  he  found  that  practically  all 
work  had  been  denied  him  and  he  was  forced 
to  provide  for  his  family  from  the  Wilder 
ness.  And  as  the  days  grew  warm  and  the 
earth  loamy,  he  plowed  with  Baldy,  and 
hunted  and  fished  and  his  little  family  lived 
well,  with  only  the  sense  of  injustice  keep 
ing  them  from  being  content. 

And  all  the  while  Runt,  the  shadow,  was 
also  going  his  own  way.  He  helped  Tom 

234 


whenever  there  was  need  of  him,  but  long 
days  and  hours  he  spent  in  the  woods  trap 
ping  and  skinning  and  curing  pelts  of  all 
kinds.  He  kept  his  operations  out  of 
Nancy's  sight,  for  he  remembered  the  scene 
on  Lincoln  Creek  about  the  poults  in  their 
childhood,  and  she  really  was  not  aware  that 
he  had  built  up  a  very  lucrative  trade  in 
Elizabethtown  with  his  beautiful  skins. 

And  the  whole  of  Elizabethtown  believed, 
or  pretended  to  believe,  that  Thomas  Lin 
coln,  the  abolitionist,  was  using  the  little 
black  man  as  a  kind  of  fence  to  dispose  of 
his  own  productions  to  avoid  their  boycott, 
while  he  preached  as  he  chose  against  them. 

It  was  a  cruel,  bitter  cruel,  situation. 

And  Nancy  had  to  face  it  on  that  early 
July  day,  perhaps  the  4th,  three  years  after 
the  summer  in  which  she  had  chosen  be 
tween  Thomas  Lincoln  and  Clinton  Meri- 
weather  before  the  eyes  of  all  Elizabethtown. 
The  last  payments  for  the  land  out  at 

235 


THE  MATRIX 

Noland  Creek  were  due,  and  she  felt  that 
she  must  go  into  Elizabethtown  to  pay  them 
at  the  Elizabethtown  Bank,  for  she  could  see 
how  Thomas  shrank  from  business  with  his 
coldly  courteous  enemies.  She  dressed  her 
self  in  one  of  her  old  blue  homespuns,  which 
was  faded  to  the  color  of  the  heavens,  put 
on  her  white  sunbonnet,  mounted  Baldy  and 
rode  away  from  the  cabin,  leaving  Tom  and 
wee  Nancy  in  charge.  It  was  summer  and 
she  was  young  and  strong  and  love-mated, 
and  she  sang  as  she  rode  along  under  heavy 
leafed  boughs  and  over  daisy-dotted  carpets 
of  green.  The  joy  of  life  was  in  her  strong 
body,  as  lissom  as  it  had  ever  been,  only 
made  richer  in  curves  by  her  easy  mater 
nity,  when  she  slipped  from  old  Baldy, 
hitched  him  to  a  rack  and  entered  the  Eliza 
bethtown  Bank,  expecting  to  find  kind  Mr. 
Robinson  to  transact  her  business  for  her. 

Instead    of    her    friend,    Clinton    Meri- 
weather  rose  to  greet  her.     Three  years  out 

236 


THE  MATRIX 

in  the  world  beyond  the  Alleghanies  had  not 
taken  her  out  of  his  heart  and  he  had  come 
back  with  a  bitter  determination  to  make 
another  effort  to  get  her.  Her  developed 
beauty  almost  made  him  reel,  as  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him  with  a  glad,  hearty,  neigh 
borly  smile  of  welcome. 

"Howdy,  Clint,  welcome  back  to  Eliza- 
bethtown,"  she  said,  trying  to  put  as  much 
neighborliness  into  her  voice  as  possible. 

"Thank  you,  Nancy,"  he  said  as  he  took 
her  hand  in  both  his  and  held  it  for  a  sec 
ond  between  his  hot  palms  before  he  let  it 
fall.  In  both  their  minds  was  the  memory 
of  the  similar  greeting  they  had  spoken  at 
the  moment  of  his  undoing  years  before. 
And  at  the  memory  of  it  Xancy  blushed,  as  a 
woman  will,  and  the  blush  quickened  Clin 
ton's  pulse. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  asked, 
grasping  at  the  straw  of  business  to  steady 
himself. 

237 


THE  MATRIX 

"I  want  to  make  a  payment  on  Tom's  and 
my  land  at  Noland  Creek.  The  notes  are 
here  in  the  bank,"  Nancy  answered  in  a  re 
lieved  voice  and  with  a  certain  note  of  pride 
at  thus  proving  Tom,  the  husband,  a  land 
owner  to  the  discarded  but  powerful  lover. 
"We  could  have  made  all  the  last  payment 
if  the  winter  had  n't  been  so  hard." 

"Still  the  business  in  skins  has  been  brisk," 
Clinton  ventured  cautiously,  looking  at  her 
with  veiled  eyes.  He  had  been  told  of  the 
dealings  of  Thomas  Lincoln  through  his 
negro  and  wanted  to  see  if  she  were  a  party 
thereto  or  deceived  by  her  husband;  the  lat 
ter  he  judged  to  be  the  case  by  Nancy's  quick 
answer : 

"Tom  never  traps,  and  shot  skins  don't 
sell  for  much.  I  wish  we  could  finish  pay 
ing  for  the  land  this  summer,  for  interest 
mounts  up." 

"Maybe  we  can  arrange  some  way  to 
make  it  easier  on  you.  I  '11  come  out  be- 

258 


THE  MATRIX 

fore  long  and  talk  to  Mr.  Lincoln  about  it," 
the  banker  said  with  all  his  most  gracious 
tone  and  manner.  "We  're  just  going  on 
being  friends,  aren't  we,  Nancy?" 

Clinton  Meriweather  knew  with  bitter 
ness  that  he  was  reduced  to  the  old  formula 
of  friendship  for  a  desired  woman's  husband, 
and  he  meant  to  use  it  for  all  it  contained, 
for  he  had  convinced  himself  that  Nancy's 
situation  as  the  wife  of  the  Pariah  must  be 
changed. 

"We  '11  be  mighty  glad  to  have  you  come, 
Clint — if  you  want  to — after  you  hear — we 
ain't  got  many  friends  now,  me  and  Tom," 
Nancy  answered,  with  quick  tears  rising  to 
her  dark  lashes,  thus  putting  herself  outside 
the  pale  with  her  husband,  though  she  well 
knew  that  the  community  would  not  so  place 
her. 

"I  know  all  about  it,  Nancy,  and  nothing 
could  keep  me  from — being  your  friend," 
Clinton  answered  her  with  the  tenderness  of 

239 


THE  MATRIX 

his  voice  so  controlled  that  it  only  meant 
strength  to  Nancy's  humiliation.  "I  'm 
coming  out  Saturday  and  shoot  poults  with 
Lincoln  if  you  '11  fry  some  for  supper.  I 
have  n't  had  any  fried  turkey  for  three  years, 
remember,  and  put  on  the  big  pot  and  the 
little  kettle." 

"Oh,  Clint,  I  '11  be  so  glad  to  have  you 
come  as  a  friend  to  us.  Maybe  you  can 
help  folks  to — to  understand  Tom."  And 
in  the  happiness  of  having  found  sympathy, 
Nancy's  tears  overflowed  as  they  would 
never  have  done  in  the  presence  of  enmity. 
She  was  drying  them  on  the  ruffle  of  her 
sunbonnet  while  Clinton  was  administering 
a  friendly  and  controlled  pat  to  her  shoul 
der,  still  heaving  with  swallowed  sobs,  when 
Dame  Evelyn  Robinson  and  Jean,  now 
Kyle,  entered. 

Poor  Nancy!  The  long  winter  of  soli 
tude  would  count  as  nothing  in  their  eyes 

240 


THE  MATRIX 

against  the  one  brief  moment  of  friendly  and 
sympathetic  communion. 

"She  is  shameless,"  Dame  Robinson  said 
under  her  breath  to  her  daughter.  But 
Nancy  was  too  innocent  and  happy  and 
friendly  to  notice  the  coldness  of  their  greet 
ing,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  would  have  been 
colder  if  they  had  not  felt  a  direct  and 
watchful  gaze  leveled  on  them  from  the  keen 
eyes  of  their  good  friend,  the  banker,  whom 
they  had  come  in  to  welcome. 

And  as  she  rode  through  the  purple  sum 
mer  twilight,  Nancy's  heart  seemed  to  throw 

C7  »/ 

off  its  burden  and  she  sang  as  she  had  never 
sung  before,  as  she  let  Baldy  amble  along 
at  his  will. 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul — " 

her  voice  chanted  out  above  the  tree  tops 
over  into  the  home  clearing  and  reached 
Thomas  Lincoln,  as  he  sat  on  the  cabin  steps 

241 


THE  MATRIX 

waiting  for  her,  and  immediately  he  stood 
up  and  answered : 

"Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly; 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll, 
And  the  tempest  still  is  high." 

Then  he  went  to  meet  her  and  they  finished 
together : 

"Other  refuge  have  I  none. 

All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring: 
Cover  my  defenseless  head 
With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing." 

And  as  in  the  twilight  Nancy  went  into 
the  strong  tender  arms  of  her  husband,  her 
heart,  which  had  been  comforted  by  the 
thoughts  of  the  friendship  offered  them  in 
their  defenselessness  rose  in  her  bosom  with 
hope  and  gratitude. 

And  at  that  moment  she  clung  to  her  hus 
band  as  she  looked  at  the  evening  star  rising 
in  the  east. 

242 


THE  MATRIX 

"It 's  true,  Tom!  I  pray  it 's  going  to  be 
a  man,"  she  whispered. 

Her  prayer  was  answered.  The  child 
was  a  man  among  men  and  was  called  Abra 
ham  Lincoln, 


243 


CHAPTER  XII 

summer  before  her  son's  birth  was 
•••  a  busy,  hard  one  for  Nancy,  though 
true  to  his  word,  Banker  Meriweather 
fended  the  "tempest"  from  her.  The  peo 
ple  of  Elizabethtown  really  loved  Nancy 
Lincoln  and  it  was  easy  for  a  few  words  here 
and  there  from  the  banker  to  restrain  them 
from  making  any  demonstration  of  active 
dislike  for  Thomas,  her  husband,  especially 
as  her  condition  kept  him  near  her  and  out 
of  actively  angry  arguments  most  of  the 
time.  But  all  over  the  country  the  slavery 
question  was  burning  with  a  greater  heat, 
and  the  Runt,  in  his  anomalous  position 
creeping  in  and  out,  selling  skins  that  they 
thought  his  master  sent  him  to  trade,  was 

244 


THE  MATRIX 

breath  on  the  smouldering  suspicion  and  dis 
like  they  had  for  Thomas  Lincoln.  They 
bided  their  time,  but  they  got  him  at  last. 

And  her  husband's  frequent  spells  of  de 
pression  only  made  Nancy  more  courageous 
as  she  worked  through  the  late  summer  and 
fall  preparing  for  the  long  winter,  which 
was  going  to  be  doubly  hard  for  her.  Since 
Tom  could  not  get  work  they  had  no  money 
to  buy  wool  or  cotton  for  her  spinning,  and 
she  had  only  the  fleece  to  weave  one  tiny  little 
garment  to  keep  her  future  President  warm, 
but  she  contrived  a  few  fine  cotton  slips  from 
her  own  things  to  put  under  his  fleece.  Also 
she  depended  upon  wrapping  him  in  the 
moleskin  against  the  bitterest  cold. 

"I  'm  mighty  glad  you  can  be  a  little 
happy,  honey  bird,"  Thomas  said  with  one 
of  his  rare  sad  smiles,  as  he  stood  hanging 
her  bunches  of  sage  and  sassafras  and  tansy 
and  cammomile  with  strings  of  red  peppers, 
to  the  huge  hewn  rafters  that  ran  across  the 

245 


THE  MATRIX 

cabin  and  supported  the  floor  of  the  loft, 
which  was  reached  by  a  ladder. 

And  Nancy  answered  him  with  the  Ma 
donna's  words  from  the  Book: 

"My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord, 

And  my  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  God,  my  Saviour." 

"That 's  the  way  I  feel,  Thomas,  and  I  know 
I  am  carrying  a  blessed  burden  for  you  and 
me." 

"There  never  was  a  woman  like  you  in 
the  world  before,  Nancy,"  Thomas  said,  as 
he  looked  down  from  his  ladder  on  her  with 
great  reverence. 

After  the  slowly  dying  blaze  of  autumn 
and  the  purple  flicker  of  Indian  summer 
had  burned  out,  winter  flung  its  blankets 
of  snow  over  the  little  cabin,  and  sleet  rained 
down  upon  it  and  the  winds  tore  at  it,  but 
failed  to  shake  it.  Tom  and  the  Runt  kept 
the  huge  logs  piled  high  and  blazing,  and  by 

246 


their  light  Nancy  read  and  dreamed,  as  she 
did  the  few  tasks  concerned  with  the  cook 
ing  of  the  food  for  her  family.  When  the 
weather  was  good,  Tom  went  into  town  for 
the  necessities,  which  were  few,  for  they  had 
provisioned  themselves  well  against  the  win 
ter  need,  and  what  they  lacked  in  dried  meat 
his  gun  supplied.  Almost  his  only  pur 
chases  were  powder  for  his  horn  and  coffee 
and  tea  for  Nancy's  pot.  When  the 
weather  would  allow  it,  Nancy  Friend  and 
Aunt  Lucy  Berry  came  out  to  see  Nancy, 
but  their  visits  were  few  and  far  between,  on 
account  of  the  cold. 

Then  just  before  the  dawn  of  Sunday, 
February  12th,  1809,  Nancy's  hour  came 
upon  her  and  her  son,  Abraham  Lincoln, 
opened  his  big  gray  eyes  to  the  first  clear 
sunrise  in  two  weeks. 

"Shoo,  Nancy,  I  never  did  see  such  a  child, 
he  's  as  big  as  a  yearling  now,"  Thomas,  the 
father,  said  after  he  had  performed  the  sim- 

247 


THE  MATRIX 

pie  birth  rights  for  his  son  under  Nancy's 
directions,  for  neither  of  them  had  thought  of 
calling  for  assistance  through  the  dark  cold 
forest. 

"He 's  a-looking  right  into  my  heart, 
Tom,"  Nancy  said,  as  she  watched  a  pair  of 
big  gray  eyes  open  over  the  rim  of  her  white 
breast,  and  seem  to  look  up  straight  into  hers 
for  a  second  before  they  flickered  and  shut. 

"He  '11  never  look  into  a  purtier  sight," 
Tom  answered,  as  he  kissed  Nancy  gently 
and  drew  the  moleskin  around  mother  and 
son,  both  of  whom  were  immediately  asleep 
after  the  trying  ordeal  of  introduction  to 
each  other. 

With  the  advent  of  young  Abraham  Lin 
coln  into  the  world  the  grim  weather  broke, 
and  by  the  time  he  was  a  month  old,  spring 
had  come  with  her  myriads  of  life  buddings. 
Nancy  was  again  on  her  feet — more  full  of 
life  and  strength  than  she  had  ever  been, 
and  also  bursting  with  pride  over  the  man- 

248 


THE  MATRIX 

child,  who  was  such  a  wonder  of  size  that 
many  of  her  friends  journeyed  out  just  to 
behold  him. 

"Lordy,  Nancy,  this  child  will  be  Gov 
ernor  or  git  hung,"  the  old  stage  driver 
Hardstay  declared,  as  he  stopped  his  stage 
and  walked  a  half  mile  across  to  pay  his  re 
spects.  "The  set  of  that  jaw  is  to  rule  or 
ruin."  Years  after  Abraham  Lincoln  lay 
in  his  grave,  old  Hardstay,  nearing  the  cen 
tury  mark,  would  take  pride  in  repeating  his 
prophecy. 

And  as  the  building  season  opened, 
Thomas  Lincoln  drove  himself  into  Eliza- 
bethtown  in  fruitless  quests  for  work. 
Builders  never  had  a  job  for  him,  and  while 
the  men  would  sit  at  dinner  time  and  talk 
with  him  and  listen  to  him,  even  question 
him  on  his  favorite  political  theme,  he  failed 
to  find  an  invitation  to  "lend  a  hand."  And 
this  fact  ate  into  his  very  vitals  and  made 
him  come  home  in  a  state  of  utter  despond- 

249 


THE  MATRIX 

ency  and  bitterness,  a  state  which  Nancy 
never  failed  to  lighten  for  him  with  a  stead 
fast  reiteration  of  the  principles  of  inherent 
freedom  for  mankind,  which  were  making 
him  an  outcast. 

"It 's  not  wrong  to  preach  the  Lord's 
right,  Tom,"  she  always  affirmed. 

It  was  Nancy's  own  faith  and  courage  and 
love  which  supported  her  during  it  all,  but 
she  scarcely  realized  how  much  she  depended 
upon  the  friendship  and  sympathy  of  Clin 
ton  Meriweather  as  he  went  back  and  forth 
along  the  bridle  path  to  Elizabethtown,  al 
ways  shooting  with  Tom  and  bringing  in  the 
game  for  her  to  cook  and  eat  with  them. 

He  never  talked  politics  with  Tom  but 
they  swapped  "^Esop's  Fables"  for  worldly 
tales  of  the  great  cities  of  New  York  and 
Boston  and  Philadelphia,  which  Clinton 
knew  so  well.  Tom  never  tired  of  hearing 
stories  of  the  sea  and  the  city  which  Clinton 
had  collected,  and  Nancy  was  just  as  eager 

250 


THE  MATRIX 

for  them  as  Tom.  She  would  sit  with  wee 
Nancy  at  her  knee  and  Abraham  on  her 
breast,  and  listen  with  her  big  purple  eyes 
eagerly  flaring  into  his,  until  Meriweather 
would  be  obliged  to  go  home  through  the 
forest  with  a  flame  that  was  dangerous,  burn 
ing  in  his  breast.  He  was  ready  for  any 
thing  to  get  her  and  he  thought  he  saw  hope 
in  what  he  considered  Tom's  evident  unbal 
ance  of  life  and  character. 

"She  's  in  a  dream  about  the  poor  fool 
and  something  must  wake  her,"  he  muttered 
to  himself  one  night  as  he  went  through  the 
woods,  after  looking  back  to  see  Nancy  with 
Tom  behind  her  holding  a  candle  high  over 
her  head  to  light  him  to  the  opening  of  the 
path.  "I  must  save  her.  I  must." 

And  in  truth  the  strain  upon  Nancy  was 
becoming  very  bitter.  Her  people  came 
less  frequently  to  see  her,  because  one  by 
one  they  had  acquired  the  necessary  slaves 
to  carry  on  their  business,  and  they  did  n't 

251 


THE  MATRIX 

care  to  hear  Tom's  opinion  of  the  matter. 
She  had  both  the  children  to  care  for  and 
Tom  was  now  most  of  the  time  away  in 
Elizabethtown.  talking  around  the  Square 
and  the  stores  and  making  trouble  for  him 
self  with  each  discussion,  which  trouble  he 
brought  home  for  Xancy  at  night. 

Naturally,  when  Clinton  Meriweather 
came  whistling  through  the  woods,  it  seemed 
to  Xancy  that  she  could  slip  by  means  of  his 
stories  and  jokes  into  another  world  for  a 
moment's  ease  from  her  heavy  burdens. 

"Tell  me  about  ships,  Clint,  it  rests  me." 
she  said  to  him  one  day,  when  he  caught  her 
at  the  ironing  board,  weary  and  hot. 

And  the  banker  believed  that  the  time  he 
bided  had  almost  come. 

Then  the  blow  from  which  Thomas  Lin 
coln  never  recovered  his  spirit  fell  upon 
him.  and  Xancv  was  there  to  see  it  admin- 

» 

istered, 

It  was  upon  the  occasion  of  her  first  visit 

252 


THE  MATRIX 

to  Elizabethtown  after  the  birth  of  her  son. 
who  was  about  six  weeks  old,  and  she  had 
dressed  herself  and  him  with  the  greatest 
care  in  the  best  they  possessed,  which  was 
some  of  her  own  patched  girlhood  finery  for 
them  both.  All  the  afternoon  she  went  from 
one  store  to  another  doing  her  little  trading 
directly,  with  no  apologies  offered.  Also 
she  offered  no  goods  for  sale,  but  she  did  ex 
hibit  the  baby  with  the  greatest  pride  to  her 
old  friends,  who  were  secretly  suffering  at 
what  they  thought  was  her  unhappy  condi 
tion. 

After  she  had  collected  her  pathetically 
small  bundles  of  tea  and  coffee,  she  crossed 
the  Square  to  the  front  of  the  Court  House, 
where  a  huge  stump  of  white  poplar  had 
been  left  in  the  original  clearing,  to  be  used 
for  the  political  speaking.  Her  horse  was 
hitched  near  and  she  wanted  to  deposit  her 
packages  and  look  in  the  crowd  she  saw- 
around  the  stump,  for  Tom,  meaning  to 

253 


THE  MATRIX 

gently  draw  him  away  from  arguments  that 
would  hurt  him.  Just  as  she  reached  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd,  Felix  Grundy,  the 
Tennessean,  and  old  friend  of  the  Berrys 
and  Hankses  and  Lincolns,  stepped  on  the 
stump  and  began  to  address  the  crowd. 
The  year  before,  the  act  which  prohibited  the 
bringing  of  slaves  into  America  had  been 
put  in  operation,  and  feeling  ran  high  in 
the  Southern  states  among  the  Southern 
planters,  who  felt  they  must  have  the  blacks 
to  work  their  cotton  and  tobacco,  trading  in 
which  the  Northerners  were  making  large 
fortunes.  A  large  party  of  young  Southern 
orators  had  risen  to  oppose  the  Jeffersonians 
and  urge  the  repealing  of  the  exclusion 
act  under  the  threat  of  secession.  Of  these 
speakers,  Grundy  of  Tennessee  was  well 
nigh  as  fiery  as  Clay  of  Kentucky,  and 
wherever  he  orated  feeling  ran  high. 

As    Nancy    Hanks    Lincoln,    with    six- 
weeks-old    Abraham    curled    against    her 

254 


THE  MATRIX 

breast,  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
which  was  composed  of  most  of  the  leading 
gentry  of  Elizabethtown,  who  always  en 
thusiastically  rallied  around  the  handsome, 
rich  and  cultured  Grundy,  and  a  large 
sprinkling  of  the  tradesmen  and  mechanics 
and  farmers  and  workmen,  she  failed  to  see 
Tom  standing  just  to  one  side  of  the  speaker, 
leaning  against  a  poplar  tree,  whittling  a 
stick,  but  with  fire  in  his  eyes.  The  first 
she  knew  of  his  presence  was  when  his  big 
voice  cut  into  one  of  Grundy's  most  impres 
sive  flights  on  the  inviolable  rights  of  prop 
erty. 

"Right  here,  Mister  Grundy,  please," 
Tom's  voice  commanded  with  such  authority 
that  even  the  silver-tongued  Grundy  paused 
and  looked  at  his  interrupter  with  attention. 
"Granted  that  nobody  has  a  right  to  take 
niggers  away  from  them  that  owns  them  like 
horses,  was  it  right  for  'em  to  be  owned  in 
the  first  place?  Did  the  Lord  ever  in- 

255 


THE  MATRIX 

tend—  But  that  was  as  far  as  the  aboli 
tionist  was  allowed  to  get.  The  "tempest" 
of  dislike  was  loosed  on  him  and  swept  over 
the  head  of  Nancy  and  Abraham  as  it  en 
gulfed  him. 

Gideon  Robinson  rose  on  a  small  stump 
near  at  hand  and  his  sharp  voice  whipped 
his  words  through  the  air : 

"That  will  do,  Lincoln.  No  man  who 
preaches  abolition  until  we  refuse  to  trade 
with  him,  and  then  sends  his  slave  sneaking 
in  to  trade  for  him  has  a  voice  in  this  dis 
cussion.  We  want  nothing  more  from  you." 

Tom's  head  went  up  like  that  of  a  war 
horse,  but  Nancy  shrank  as  if  from  a  blow,  as 
she  clutched  Abraham  closer  to  her  breast. 

"Tain't  so,"  she  cried,  answering  the  dual 
charge  with  a  woman's  wail  of  agony. 

"If  you  mean  that  nigger  Runt,  I  freed 
him  before  I  was  fifteen  years  old,"  Tom 
said  with  his  dark  eyes  fixed  on  Robin 
son's  face.  "I  pay  him  for  what  he  does 

256 


THE  MATRIX 

for  me  and  if  he  trades,  he  trades  for  him 
self,  free  just  the  same  as  you  or  me.  If 
anybody  don't  know  it,  I  hereby  declare  him 
a  free  man." 

Tom's  defiance  was  the  first  act  of  aboli 
tion  in  Elizabethtown  and  it  brought  its 
storm.  The  crowd  was  an  angry  mob,  from 
which  Xancy  found  herself  drawn  with  au 
thoritative  hands,  lifted  up  on  her  horse  and 
led  out  of  the  Square.  Her  head  was  bent 
over  that  of  her  swaddled  son  and  she  was 
weeping  so  bitterly  that  she  did  not  realize 
who  was  leading  her  horse,  until  she  was  well 
into  the  clearing.  Then  she  looked  up  to  see 
Clinton  Meriweather's  pained  eyes,  full  of 
sympathy,  upon  her.  He  was  riding  his 
roan,  which  always  stood  hitched  in  front  of 
the  bank,  and  he  took  the  bridle  path  in  front 
of  her,  leading  her  horse  after  him. 

"I  '11  get  you  home,  Nancy,"  was  all  he 
said,  and  silently  he  led  her  through  the 
woods  to  her  cabin,  silently  he  lifted  her,  with 

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her  son  in  her  arms,  to  the  ground,  and  as 
silently  followed  her  into  the  sunset  dusk  of 
the  cabin. 

"Now  I  suppose  you  '11  come  with  me 
away  from  the  half-wit  who  can't  take  care 
of  you.  I  '11  take  you  and  the  children  to 
your  aunt's,  until  we  can  get  rid  of  him  and 
I  can  marry  you,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  in 
front  of  the  logs  smouldering  in  the  fire 
place.  "You  've  suffered  enough  poverty 
and  disgrace  with  him.  Now  you  shall  have 
what  you  deserve."  As  he  spoke  the  will  of 
the  handsome,  strong  man  of  the  world  went 
forth  to  do  battle  with  that  of  the  homespun, 
pioneer  woman  whom  he  had  promised  him 
self  he  would  somehow  take  and  hold. 

"It 's  the  God's  truth,  Nancy,  and  you 
had  better  go  back  to  your  folks,"  came  an 
interruption  before  Nancy  could  make  her 
answer,  and  Tom  Lincoln  stood  in  the  door. 

"I  got  away  but  they  are  a-going  to  come 

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THE  MATRIX 

to  shiveree  me  in  less  than  an  hour,  and  I 
want  to  go  out  into  the  woods  and  lose  myself 
from  people  who  hunt  humans  like  critters." 
As  he  spoke  the  fire  of  what  the  world  then 
called  fanaticism,  a  fanaticism  which  later 
involved  the  whole  world,  flamed  in  his  eyes 
and  his  black  hair  stood  up  like  the  crest  of 
a  charger  in  a  holy  war.  "Freedom  is  all 
that 's  worth  living  for!" 

Standing  with  Abraham  on  her  breast, 
Xancy  Hanks  Lincoln  made  her  choice  be 
tween  the  two  men,  one  offering  all  that  the 
world  could  give  her  and  the  other — nothing, 
seemingly. 

"I  'm  sorry,  Clint,  but  I  hold  with  Tom, 
and  good-by,"  she  said  with  a  smile  that 
shone  round  and  across  her  son's  head. 

Then  she  turned  from  him  to  her  husband 
and  said:  "Pack  little  Nancy  and  as  much 
as  you  can  on  the  horse,  and  drive  the  stock 
along  after  me,  Tom.  I  'm  going  to  take 

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THE  MATRIX 

myself  and  you  and  our  children  back  into 
the  woods  on  Noland  Creek.  The  Lord 
will  guide  us  to  freedom." 

And  out  into  the  Wilderness  she  went  with 
Abraham.     Tom  followed. 


THE   END 


260 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


A     000920141     9 


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